Trapped
by MyBatBoys
Summary: Robin is trapped in a bank vault with no air. Nightwing comes to the rescue but is it soon enough? The Bat family will pull together to overcome obstacles in the hopes of getting life back to normal.
1. Chapter 1

_Title: Trapped_

_Rating: R for instances of strong language_

_Characters: Nightwing, Robin, Batman, Alfred and Leslie_

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't make money off them. I just love them._

_Kanny's my Bat Family Beta, but the grammatical and spelling mistakes are alllll mine!_

_Medical disclaimer. I make no claims to the information in my story to be accurate, although research was done to make it as close as possible._

_Summary and Description: This story was inspired by Robin Issue Nos. 4 and 5. Robin and Cluemaster were trapped in an armored truck and buried by Cluemaster's partners a pit of cement to be dug up hours later with the money when no one was around. Unbeknownst to them, their leader was inside. _

_I have changed a couple details and swapped the armored truck to a bank vault. The scene takes place in Bludhaven and not Gotham. The criminals had altered the complicated combination to the vault and set the trap for the air to be suctioned out slowly over a couple hours._

* * *

Chapter 1

"Robin!" Nightwing shouted as he entered the bank's vault. It took him only a matter of seconds to spot the boy leaned up against the wall of safety deposit boxes, slumped over onto his side. Nightwing dropped to his knees and took his vitals, "Hang on, Bro." Nightwing whispered as he pressed the Redbird's wireless remote on Robin's belt and scooped his brother's limp body into his arms.

"Nightwing to Batcave."

Alfred's stomach flipped at the urgency in Nightwing's voice. "Right here, sir."

"I've got Robin here. He's going into shock." Alfred could hear the Redbird scream around a corner, "ETA, 10 minutes."

"Who's in Bludhaven that you can trust?" Batman asked, coming on the line.

"In Bludhaven?? Is this a trick question??" Dick answered with both astoundment and frustration in his voice, "If it were 'Tim', I'd have him to the ER by now. This is Robin' the answer to your question is no one."

"Give me his status."

"Hold on.." Nightwing answered as he reached over and felt the side of Tim's neck. "Uhhh... Pulse is thready and his resps quick and shallow. He was trapped inside a bank vault with Cluemaster, that idiot got stuck in his own trap. Combination was reconfigured and ventilation systems set to reverse. He was unconscious when I got to him and hasn't come around since."

"Where are you?" Batman asked as he listened to the sounds of squealing brakes and car horns as Nightwing wove in and out of traffic on the expressway between Bludhaven and Gotham.

"Roughly 15 miles from the cave. Should be there in about seven minutes."

"All right, continue on course, I'm on my way. Alfred?"

"Doctor Thompkins shall be here shortly. I have everything prepped and ready. I will be en route as soon as she arrives."

"Good. ... Oracle."

"Here, boss."

"Keep the Cave, Nightwing and myself on this channel. I want all other transmissions rerouted to 009 and give me whisper capability to that channel." Batman instructed as he slammed the turbo boosters into gear and peeled rubber out of Gotham toward Bludhaven.

"Easy, Robin... take a couple slow breaths for me..." Nightwing coached as he raced the Redbird back to the Batcave at speeds exceeding 110 mph.

"Batman to Nightwing."

"Go ahead."

"Status."

"Respirations are sharp and shallow, rapid pulse." Nightwing answered as the Batmobile plowed through the highway's median and flew past the Redbird, clearing traffic out of Nightwing's way. "Pale, clammy... he's in shock."

"How long was he locked in the vault?"

"About three hours"

"Cluemaster?"

"On his way back to Blackga.. SHIT! Robin..., Robin!"

"Report." Batman demanded and pulled a tight U-turn when the Redbird swerved off the road and disappeared into the trees.

"Lost the pulse."

Nightwing snatched Robin out of his seat and laid him down onto the dirt, took his pulse and listened for respirations.

Nothing.

Nightwing quickly removed Robin's tunic and began CPR.

"Come on... little bro... Zoanne's gonna... be mad if... you stand..

_-puff - puff-_

...her up tomorrow."

Batman bolted out of his vehicle to find Nightwing doing chest compressions. "How long's he been down?" Batman asked as he tore off his gloves and checked for a pulse.

"About two...minutes."

"_Four, one thousand. Five, one thousand_. Breathe."

Batman tilted Robin's head back to open his airway and breathed two puffs of air into his lungs.

"Come on, Robin! _one, one thousand_ Come back _two, one thousand.._ to us..._three, one thousand_.. Fight It!! _four, one thousand. five, one thousand_. Breathe."

_-puff - puff-_

"You can do it, son." Batman said as he squeezed Tim's hand. "Listen to me, Robin! Your team is depending on you. The team needs you! We... we need you." Batman and Nightwing exchanged a quick glance, both speaking the same thing to each other, without saying a word.

"..._five, one thousand_. Breathe."

"Alfred. ETA?" Nightwing called into his comm link

"Just under three minutes,... _one, one thousand_..." Alfred had to fight the urge to ask about his youngest charge's status as he heard Nightwing counting off each compression. But he wouldn't risk a distraction to.._three, one thou._."

"WAIT.., WAITWAIT!" Batman shouted as he grabbed Nightwing's arm and tilted his head down in concentration.

Everyone held their breath and silently prayed for a miracle. The faintest shadow of relief graced Batman's face before it was ripped away, "Damn! We had him for a second." Batman exclaimed.

"Damn it, Robin!! **Quit. Fucking Around!!**" Nightwing growled as he resumed chest compressions.

Batman watched Nightwing give it his all as sweat rained down the sides of his face and off the tip of his nose from the sweltering August night.

"Nightwing, switch places with me."

"..._hundred_. No."

"Yes. You need a rest. With this heat, you're going to make yourself sick."

Nightwing looked up and gave Batman a hard glare, "_five, one thousand_. Breathe."

Batman breathed for his partner then placed his hand on Nightwing's shoulder. "Dick..." he said softly.

".._three_..I said NO!!" Dick shouted as he swung his arm around, violently flinging Bruce's hand off his shoulder. "_thousand.. five, one thousand_. Breathe."

Alfred couldn't tell which was worse, hearing the desperation in his boys' voices as they tried to reach out to their son and brother in body and spirit or his own pain from the fact that one of his grandsons was straddling the fence between this world and the next.

'Shame on you, Pennyworth!' Alfred thought to himself, 'Thinking like that is not what this family does. We have all seen our fair share of trying and uncertain times. We have always pulled through and that is exactly what is going to happen tonight, whether the forces of nature know it or not, this boy will survive.'

Nightwing allowed himself to feel the slightest tinge of relief when he saw the ambulance's headlights bouncing from a distance as it crossed the field.

Alfred leapt out of the vehicle with the med kit in hand and ran to join his boys in their life saving efforts. Waiting until Nightwing and Batman had finished their current repetitions, Alfred moved in to insert a ventricular tube. Within seconds, Alfred had Tim tubbed and bagged and the three of them swiftly loaded him up.

Batman slammed the back doors shut then ran around to jump in the driver's seat. "Hang on!" he yelled over his shoulder as he put the transmission into 'drive'. He drove as fast as he dared over the bumpy terrain without making the ride too rough before pulling back onto the highway.

Alfred applied the silicone gel to Tim's chest and side.

"_two, one thousand_."

"Charging to 200."

"_four, one thousand..."_

"Clear!"

Nightwing brought his hands up as Alfred pressed the paddles to Tim's chest.

Dick tore off his mask and winced as Tim's body arched up then crashed back down to the stretcher. He gently rolled Tim's head back upright and squeezed the bag until he knew if they'd have to try again.

"Come on, Timmy. You've got to fight! I know you're there..." Dick said as he resumed chest compressions. "I know you can hear us..." _-snap-_ "Aww, hell! I just broke one of his ribs."

"Charging to 225. It happens, Master Dick, you're doing just fine. Clear!"

"Charging 250." Alfred looked at Dick as he desperately tried to save his brother's life, taking note of Dick's flushed face was and how out of breath he was.

Alfred was snapped from his thoughts at the defibrillator's 'ready tone', "Clear."

beep-beep...beep-beep..beep...beepbeepbeepbeeeeeeeeeeee

"COME ON...TIM!"

"Charging 275." Alfred said, refusing to give into the sadness that reality tried to force upon his heart.

"FIGHT IT, TIMMY!!...YOU'VE GOTTA... FIGHT" Dick yelled between compressions, "YOU CAN ... DO IT!"

"Clear!"

"I'M NOT GIVING... UP... YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Charging 275 still.."

"I SAID I'M ... NOT GIVING... UP! YOU... CAN'T EITHER!!!...YOU'RE NOT... A QUITTER, TIM...ROBINS DON'T QUIT!!!"

"Clear!"

beep ...beep...beep...

"Come on, Timmy." Dick squatted down and squeezed Tim's hand placing the other his forehead, "Pick up the pace, little bro. Pick up the pace, pick up the pace..."

beep...beep...beep-beep...beep-beep...beep-beep...

Alfred and Dick let loose a joyous yell and gave each other a high-five.

Alfred sat in the seat behind Tim's head and spoke softly to his grandson as he squeezed the air bag and gently stroked the side of his head.

Dick reached around the driver's seat and wrapped an arm around Batman's chest and gave a tight squeeze, "Tim's back. We got him back." He said in a thick voice. Batman nodded his head and patted his son's arm.

Leslie ran up to the back of the ambulance as it pulled into the cave.

Batman jumped out and pushed back his mask as he ran to the back and yanked open the doors. He and Dick quickly pulled out the stretcher and ran it over to the infirmary.

Dick stood back and crossed his arms as he watched Alfred and Leslie work over Tim.

He looked at the clock display on the heart monitor and was shocked to see that it had only been 17 minutes from when he pulled off the road; it felt like hours.

"Dick, you should get out of your uniform and grab a cool shower." Bruce told Dick who was still sweating despite the cool cave environment.

"No."

" _-sigh-_ ... Dick, Tim's in good hands, Alfred and Leslie are taking good care of him."

"I know."

"Then there is no reason for you not to grab a quick shower."

"I said. No."

Bruce shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his hand. He knew once Dick had his mind set. It was set. He'd only be wasting his breath.

Bruce walked up next to Leslie and listened to her give a run down on Tim's status.

A couple of minutes later, she looked over to Dick and noticed he hadn't moved an inch since they had brought Tim into the infirmary more than 30 minutes ago.

She and Alfred had a quiet conversation across Tim's bed then she turned and walked over to Dick.

"You did a very good job. He's alive right now because you were there and knew what to do when immediate action was called for." She said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Dick finally tore his gaze from Tim and looked at Leslie. "How is he?"

"Well, honestly.. I'm not going to have a firm idea until at least 24 hours from now."

Dick crossed his arms tighter across his chest and looked to the floor.

"But..." Leslie said as she took his chin in her hand and raised his face to look her in the eye, "But... he's doing ok, considering what all happened tonight. His heart is beating on it's own. It has a nice steady rhythm. I tested his respirations. He's breathing on his own, although too shallow and irregular to keep him off the respirator. If I was forced to give a strong hypothesis right now... Which I am not... but, If I were, I'd feel it would be safe to say that while he's not out of the woods yet, his recovery looks very promising."

"A full recovery?"

"I can't promise that."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dick asked, getting impatient.

"Dick..." Bruce warned.

Dick exhaled deeply. "Dick, honey.." Leslie began and placed both her hands on his shoulders.

"It means that Tim ... his body was without proper circulation for almost eight minutes. That is a long time for me to be able to guarantee a clean bill of health."

"I'm not looking for.." Dick began but stopped when his voice gave out on him.

"I know, sweet heart... believe me I know. I would give anything in the world to be able to tell you what we all want to hear. But like I was saying, eight minutes is a long time to be out of the game. The fact that the three of you were there from the start..., if there are complications, I'm guessing it's not anything that can't be overcome. Maybe some help in relearning a few things..."

Dick rolled his head back and pressed his hand to his forehead as he turned to the side.

Leslie stepped in front of him again, "Nothing that can't be gotten back. I'm not talking permanent damage. Just some set backs."

"Heh... set backs.." Dick said sarcastically "Do you have any _idea_ how 'some setbacks would affect him? We're not talking about being able to get back into the rat race here." Dick spat then turned on his heel and walked halfway across the floor before turning back around, "We're talking about jumping off 15 story buildings! Taking down a gang of thugs equipped with guns, pipes, bats, chains or blades, on his OWN." Dick ran a hand through his sweat drenched hair, "If one of these setbacks would affect the average person by, say.. 10 percent. It would affect him by at least 30... Damn It!" Dick yelled as he picked up the computer chair and hurled it across the room.

Bruce took a step forward but stopped when Leslie shook her head. Calmly she walked up to Dick and placed a hand on his arm. Dick looked up and gave her a hint of a smile, "I..I'm sorry, Les... it's all just..."

Leslie wrapped her arms around Dick and gave him a hug. After a couple seconds he returned the gesture, "It's ok, Dickie... Tim's going to be ok. That's what I want you to concentrate on now... the positive. He's very much alive, and he'll be O. K."

Dick closed his eyes and drank in the motherly support Leslie offered for a few seconds more before letting go and stood up straight again.

"Thanks."

"No need. That's what I'm here for." She smiled and gave the side of his face a light pat before turning around and returning back to take Tim's vitals again.

Bruce started to walk toward Dick, "How about that shower now, chum?"

"Shower?" Dick asked, curious how Bruce managed to walk toward him yet get further away at the same time.

"Dick?..." Leslie asked.

Dick furrowed his brow. He knew something was wrong but he couldn't get his sluggish mind to process. All three of them were looking at him and saying something... he could see their mouths moving ... but nothing came out.

... no sound.

Dick suddenly felt very cold and hugged his arms to himself as the floor began to take on a life of it's own. He had to step to the side a couple times to keep his balance just before Batman's cape was tossed around his shoulders and strong arms wrapped around him, as his world faded to black.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_For summary and disclaimer please see chapter 1._

* * *

_Previously on Trapped..._

_Bruce started to walk toward Dick, "How about that shower now, chum?"_

_"Shower?" Dick asked, curious how Bruce managed to walk toward him, yet get further away at the same time._

_"Dick?..." Leslie asked._

_Dick furrowed his brow. He knew something was wrong but he couldn't get his sluggish mind to process. All three of them were looking at him and saying something... he could see their mouths moving ... but nothing came out._

_... no sound._

_Dick suddenly felt very cold and hugged his arms to himself as the floor began to take on a life of it's own. He had to step to the side a couple times to keep his balance just before Batman's cape was tossed around his shoulders and strong arms wrapped around him, as his world faded to black._

* * *

Chapter 2

Dick flinched at the cold compress that was placed on his forehead, "It's ok honey, it's just me." Leslie said in a soothing voice. He fought through his murky consciousness and opened his eyes to find Bruce, Alfred and Leslie looking down at him.

"What..." he began to ask before Alfred patted him on the arm, "It appears you've had a bit of heat exhaustion, Master Dick."

Dick frowned as he tried to piece together the scattered bits of information from that evening. The steady beeping of a nearby heart monitor brought it back to him in a sudden rush. "Tim!" Dick exclaimed and bolted upright in the bed. "I've gotta.." He stopped as he felt the blood drain from his head the same time his stomach lurched. Leslie gently guided him over the side of the bed in time as he vomited in a bowl which Leslie held ready. She spoke softly and rubbed his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach.

Dick closed his eyes as a strong pair of hands laid him back down, "You've got to lay still while you get some fluids in you, is what you've _'gotta'_ do." Bruce countered, "Then you can take a lukewarm shower. _Then_ you can see Tim. His status hasn't changed. You didn't miss anything."

Dick sighed and closed his eyes. "You rest some, hon. I'll be back in a minute to check on you." Leslie said and patted his arm.

When he was sure everyone had left, he turned his head to the side and looked at his brother who lay in the bed next to him. Dick squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to bock out the vivid flash backs from earlier that night.

After making sure the coast was clear, he slowly sat up and turned off the iv valve that brought fluids to his dehydrated body then carefully removed the needle from his arm. Laying there wasn't doing anything for him except making him feel useless, so he peeled back the light blanket he'd been covered with and slid off the bed.

Ten minutes and a shower later, he exited the changing room wearing a pair of faded Levi's jeans, a dark blue T-shirt and a pair of Nike's. Slowly Dick made his way to the infirmary and leaned against the door frame watching his brother sleep.

'Sleep? Is that all he's doing?' Dick thought to himself as he recalled pieces of his conversation with Leslie. 'Might need to relearn how to do some things...' seemed like that was the only part he could get a solid grasp on. It hit him with the force of a wrecking ball to his gut. Dick shook his head and pushed himself off the doorway.

"What am I going to do with you, little bro?" Dick said with a sigh and rested his arms on the bed rail.

"Hey, Tim. It's time to get up." Dick swallowed hard, and tried again. "Come on lazy butt... I wouldn't want to be you the next time you see Zoanne. From what you said, she was pretty fired up the last time you didn't call." Dick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a minute.

"Awww hell, Timmy. You're 17. You should have been out at the movies or hanging around the mall or arcade with some friends... things the average teen age boy does. Not running around in a damn cape playing the hero."

Dick gave Tim's hand a firm but gently squeeze and placed his hand on his brother's head. "It's ok. Rest. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Just get better. Ok?" Dick ran his thumb across Tim's forehead a couple times before bringing a chair next the bed and sat down.

_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

"... Yowch! What the..?"

"Stay. Still." A deep voice ordered as a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"I swear, you boys make me age by ten years every time I come to fix you up. No one listens to Leslie's orders... oh noooo... just forget the fact that she IS the doctor." Leslie grumbled as she finished inserting a new iv into the back of Dick's hand.

"If you insist on refusing to stay in bed, then you'll just sit here until this bag is empty. You're dehydrated and if you want to do anything for Tim, you'll have to get your body back to square one first."

"Yeah, all right." Dick answered. Truths be told, he was very comfortable in the large chair he'd plopped down in and hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep.

"Geeeze, Les... is Alfred keeping the saline in the freezer these days? I feel like Mr. Freeze is shooting his ray up my arm."

"Oh, stop your complaining. " Leslie scolded and walked off.

"Drink this." Bruce said and handed him a sports drink. "Your electro lights are down."

Dick nodded and cracked the bottle's cap, "So, what are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts?" Bruce asked as he pulled over another chair and sat down. "My thoughts are, Tim's a very strong and healthy young man." He paused and leaned forward, placing his arms on his knees, "He's got a much better shot of making a full recovery than most, under the same circumstances. "

Dick didn't reply, just scooted down in his chair and propped his feet up on the frame of Tim's bed.

"What happened out there tonight, Dick?" Bruce asked after a moment, breaking their mutual silence.

Dick finished swallowing and leaned his head back on the chair. " It was a relatively quiet night. We stopped a few muggings, busted up a gang fight." Dick stopped and smiled with a quiet laugh as he picked at the label on his drink bottle, "Most exciting thing all night was this car jacking slash robbery attempt. These two scum bags picked out an elderly couple and ran up on their vehicle at a stop light. Creep chased them out of their car with a gun and his partner came out from the side of a building when the couple reached the sidewalk and snatched the old lady's purse."

"Nice." Bruce snorted and shook his head.

"Well, Tim took off after the car and I nabbed the other guy, tied him up and returned the purse to the woman." Dick paused to take another drink, "That's the best part of it all, you know? When I came back and handed her the purse... her.., her smile and... I don't know, they were amazed that someone took the time to help them. They couldn't stop thanking me."

Bruce looked over with a smirk, "Did she give you a hug?"

"You know better than that. When have you ever helped out old lady and have _not_ gotten a hug?"

"Point taken." Bruce said as he sat back in his chair.

"But the best part," he giggled, "Was when Tim came back with their car." Dick shook his head and laughed out loud, "He pulls the car up and gets out, right? Well, apparently, the woman, she has very poor eyesight. So, Tim gets out of the car and walks over to the couple to hand the man back his keys... _heh, heh_... and the woman, she... she starts clobbering him over the head with her purse, yelling something about making an honest living and back in her day people _worked_ for and _earned _their possessions." Dick held his sides as he laughed for a moment before he could slow down enough to finish, "It took both her husband and me to stop the full frontal assault and explain the situation."

"What'd she do then?" Bruce asked, wearing an all too infrequent, genuine smile.

"She just looked at him and said in the most endearing grandmotherly voice, Well, why didn't you say something, Deary?"

"And I bet he got his hug then, eh?"

Dick nodded, "And three wet kisses." He giggled and wiped away a couple tears.

Bruce let the light atmosphere linger for a while before asking Dick to go on, "What time did all that happen?"

"About 1:30."

"Then?"

Dick sighed, "Then... Tim wanted to call it an early evening. He asked if I'd go over some study material for an exam he has." Dick stopped and cleared his throat, "Had, today in his French class. Like I said earlier, it was a quiet night so we decided to split the city for one final patrol." Dick stood up and stretched then tossed his empty bottle in the recycle bin.

"About 20 minutes later a call came through for a bank alarm, set off at Bludhaven First National. Tim's side of town."

"He checked it out?"

"Yeah. Radioed back saying two suspects were visible behind the cashiers counter. He said he checked it out with the infrared lenses and didn't anticipate anyone else to be present."

"Ok. Then what?" pressed Bruce.

"He said he was going in. About ten minutes later he radioed back, saying the perps. were apprehended and BPD was on the scene." Dick stopped pacing and looked at Tim for a second before continuing. "He.. uh ... was talking about finishing up his side of town when he was cut off. He said something but it was muffled. I could hear a struggle, then nothing. When he didn't respond, I raced to his location. His link was still open and I could hear bits and pieces of conversation. Something about stupid wannabees' and how they sent in the first two guys as a decoy and would go in after the cops split. I guess Timmy here put a kink in their plans. The last thing I heard was something about 'how long can a bird last in a cage without windows."

Dick stopped pacing suddenly with a hiss, when he'd walked too far and yanked his iv line.

"What time was it then?" Bruce asked.

"Around 2:20." Dick answered as he sat back down. "It took me seven minutes to get there. Could have made it in four, but the No. 3 and 9 trains don't pass each other on Thursdays."

"Rooftop express?" Bruce and raised an eyebrow.

"Only way to travel." Dick replied with a smile that vanished as suddenly as it appeared.

"I kept trying to reach him the whole way. Oracle didn't have any luck either, but she was able to modify and filter out a sound clip from the last three seconds of his transmission. A series of clicks then a heavy metal-on-metal thud."

"Vault door." Bruce knew he was stating the obvious but said it anyway.

"Yeah. That and Cluemaster shout something just as it closed. I got there as the cops were finishing up and was fortunate enough that these guys weren't too proud to have teamed up with Tim and me from time to time. I told them about Robin and Cluemaster being in the vault. They got the manager down there but the combination wouldn't work. They got the makers of the vault door on the horn and within ten minutes a repairman showed up and ran all the possible combinations for that model, then tried both the model before and after the current one. Nothing worked. An hour and a half later, and we were no closer. It infuriated me! I've battled against everything between a two-foot-high wooden dummy to an evil Superman robot, but I couldn't get a friggin' door open? Tim was _fourteen feet_ from me and I couldn't do a damn thing to help him." Dick jumped up in frustration and paced back and forth a couple times then stood next to his brother and stuck his thumbs in his pockets.

"True." Bruce nodded, But three and a half of those fourteen feet were solid titanium steel, Dick."

"Yeah, well... finally, they got a welding smith in there with a plasma cutter, and the rest you know."

"You're not to blame for this, but I know you and you won't allow yourself to believe that." Bruce said.

"I shouldn't have agreed to split up that final patrol."

"Tim's more than capable to go solo. He does it all the time. Hell, he was solo, although be it not by choice, in his second year when Jean Paul was out of control."

"I know, Bruce.., but he was in _my_ city, _my_ responsibility. " Dick stressed then ran a hand through his hair.

"You know, the advice I'm about to give to you will make me into a hypocrite, but what the hell, I'll say it anyway," Bruce said as he got up and gathered a couple items from one of the cabinets. "Sit down, Dick." Bruce ordered as he pushed a stool over and sat in front of Dick and began to remove his iv.

"If it were I that was there tonight instead of you, you'd say the same thing that you've told me probably more than a thousand times before." Bruce paused to swipe the back of Dick's hand with an antibacterial swab then folded a small piece of gauze under a band-aid to make a small pressure bandage.

"That you're just one man. The super powers you possess have been those you've sculpted yourself through years of rigorous training, exercise and self discipline. You don't have heat vision, you don't have a ring which its power is limited only by the creativity of your imagination and you can't materialize through solid walls. You did all you could, with the resources available to you. And sometimes, Dick, they're not enough, and that's damn hard to swallow. But those are the facts. And you cannot dispute the facts."

Bruce got up and threw away the wrappers, used iv and saline bag in the appropriate bins, then bent over and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, "You've given me this advice more times than I can count. I've rarely allowed myself to believe it. Now that I have given it back to you and expect you to believe it, that makes me a hypocrite. But. If you refuse to at least _try_ to apply, your own advise to yourself, well then, Dick, that makes _you_ a hypocrite, also."

Bruce gave Dick's shoulder a pat, then turned and walked out, leaving him with his own words.


	3. Chapter 3

_For summary and disclosure, please see Chapter 1._

_A big thanks goes out to my Bat Beta, Kanny and my Grammer Beta, ALSW. You gals are the greatest!_

* * *

Chapter 3

He woke to sounds of choking and gagging. In an instant Dick was on his feet staring at the sight of Tim pulling the rest of the vent tube out of his mouth. "Oh, G-d, Tim!" Dick pressed the alert button on the wall behind Tim's bed.

"Tim, calm down, it's ok," Dick said as Tim fought against the blankets. He leaned over Tim to gently take hold of his arms.

Wrong move.

Tim caught Dick off guard and punched him square in the mouth, knocking him to the floor. Hard. Dick sat stunned for a moment as he tasted blood from his split lip.

"Ooohh, no, you don't!" Dick said as he scrambled off the floor and dove onto the bed just in time to prevent Tim from jumping off the other side.

Tim brought his arm back hard and elbowed Dick in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. "Ooff!" he wheezed but kept one arm securely around Tim. "Oh, you are _so_ going to get it. Remember, little brother, pay backs are a _bitch_." Dick grunted as he moved behind Tim and wrapped his other arm around his chest, pinning his arms down to his sides.

Tim grunted and struggled against Dick's restrictive hold. "Sshh... It's _ok_, Tim... calm down, little bro, I've gotcha," Dick said softly over and over again, holding him in a tight embrace. Soon thereafter, Tim stopped grunting and fighting against Dick. Instead, he turned his head to the side and rested his forehead against the crook of Dick's neck.

Dick wanted to say something to calm Tim's fears but he wasn't sure if he'd understand or if he even heard him at all.

"Wh..wh..what _happened_ in here?!" Leslie stammered from the doorway with a jaw-dropped Alfred and Bruce standing behind her.

"Dear heavens!" Alfred exclaimed as he looked around the room at the overturned chair, the a broken drinking glass on the floor, a knocked over iv stand, the pile of blankets hanging off the bed, at Dick's split and still-bleeding lip, and lastly his eyes alighted on the boy who sat perfectly still with eyes wide open, yet not focused on anything.

"Tim's up," Dick answered with a fat lip and a smile.

"It would appear so," Alfred said flatly as he began to straighten up the room.

"Tim... honey, can you hear me?" Leslie asked as she slowly used her penlight in a flickering motion toward his eyes. He didn't flinch or squint. He gave no indication that he even saw her.

Leslie stood up and slowly touched Tim's wrist to take his pulse. "I think all three of us stopped breathing all the way from the kitchen until just now."

Dick gave her a confused look while accepting an ice pack from Bruce for his busted lip. "I didn't hit the panic button did I? I swear I'd pressed the alert."

"No, you did. You pressed the alert button about 15 seconds before my pager gave me a 'code blue alert'. It's networked into the heart monitor."

"Code bl…" Dick looked over to Tim's heart monitor and saw Bruce standing next to it holding an electrode by its wire. "Oh. It must have come undone with all the struggling."

"Struggling?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Struggling. What? You think I got this busted lip from tripping on my shoe laces?"

"He _hit_ you?" Leslie asked as she looked closely in Tim's eyes with an ophthalmoscope, dialing through its different lenses every couple seconds.

"Yeah. And a damned good one at that." Dick said then ran his tongue over his lip, "but the kiddo here was so confused and scared, it was more instinct than anything else."

"Has the young sir said anything?" Alfred asked as he sat down in the previously-overturned chair.

"Other than grunts and groans, no. I heard him choking and jumped up just in time to see him yank out the tube from his throat."

"Oh, Timmy..." Leslie cooed as she felt the sides of his neck.

"Then, all hell broke loose. He started to get out of bed and I went to stop him and the next thing I know, I'm flat on my ass, and Houdini here is trying to escape off the other side. The only thing I could think to do was grab him and keep him from thrashing around. I don't know if it was because he wore himself out or what... but he got really quiet and...well, here we are. Once he calmed down, I was afraid to move. I didn't want to set him off again."

"Tim?" Leslie called in a sweet voice as her finger tips barely grazed through his hair. "Can you follow the light, honey?" Leslie asked as she waved the penlight across his eyes again. "Follow my light, Timmy." Leslie moved the light from left to right a couple times but Tim made no movement other than the occasional blink, his gaze never wavered. Leslie gave Tim a smile, "How about we lay you back down now. Ok?"

Bruce helped Dick to slip out from behind Tim and carefully laid him back down against the pillows. "Is he in a coma, Leslie?" Bruce asked knowing there are several different stages of coma ranging from complete unresponsiveness to awake and quite responsive.

Leslie nodded sadly and sighed, "I can't say for certain, but I think he's is around a level V-stage. The scale goes from I to VI. The lower the level, the more severe the coma. But we'll know more after we have him looked over by a Neurologist." Leslie answered as she began to attach a nasal cannula. As soon as it touched Tim's nose, he threw his hands out, knocking Leslie off balance and into Alfred.

"Tim, stop it," Bruce ordered while ducking from a quick punch, then held both of Tim's wrists in one hand and placed his other on Tim's shoulder.

Tim's eyes opened wide as a veil of fear and confusion shadowed his face. He shrank back from Bruce, trying to pull his hands free.

"Tim...come on. Calm back down," Dick said as he reached over and placed his hands lightly on Tim's arms. Tim grunted and weakly fought against being restrained.

"Let him go, Bruce," Dick said.

"What?" Bruce asked, still looking at Tim.

"I said, let him go... he doesn't understand." Dick said and gently removed Bruce's hand.

Tim immediately scooted back and darted his eyes around the room too fast to have focused on anything. Dick placed his hands on Tim's arms again. Not to hold him still as much as it was an attempt to ground him and help him focus.

"It's ok, Tim. You're ok. You're safe." Dick kept saying until Tim stopped groaning and grunting.

"My word..." Alfred gasped and stood up, "Would you look at that.."

"He's looking directly at you, Dick," Leslie said. "Even when I was nose to nose with him a moment ago, he wasn't looking at me, it was more like he was looking through me. But he's _seeing_ you."

"It's probably just because I was the one here when he woke up." Dick said casually, trying not to allow his hopes to rise just yet.

"I wouldn't dismiss it so easily, Master Dick. Not only has he focused on you, but he's stopped fussing as well."

"Let's try something, Dick. Get up and stand at the foot of the bed... Good." Leslie took a deep breath, "Now, slowly, take five steps to your right." Dick walked the short distance and watched Tim's eyes follow him.

"Good boy, Tim," Leslie said. "Now, can you follow Dick again, this time to the other side?" Leslie nodded and Dick walked the other way, five steps from the bed. Again, Tim followed without hesitation. "Good, Timmy. Very, very good," Leslie said and turned to the side and began rummaging through a drawer.

Dick allowed himself to smile, telling himself it was for Tim's sake and not to reflect any sort of relief he might have felt.

"Tim, I'm going to put this under your nose, okay?" Leslie said as she unwrapped a fresh nasal cannula before his gaze. "I'm sorry about before, honey. I should have told you what I was going to do. That was my fault, ok? I promise not to make that mistake twice," Leslie added as she began to place the thin, clear tube under his nose.

"Hey…hey, now..cut that out," Dick gently scolded, when Tim turned his head from side to side in an effort to avoid it. "Tim, let Leslie take care of you. You remember Les, You know you do. She's going to make you feel much better." Dick coaxed and gently held Tim's jaw in his hand to allow Leslie a chance to slip the cannula under his nose and behind his ears.

"There, see." Leslie said and smoothed the side of Tim's head. "I think we should let him get some rest now," she said and dimmed the room's lights. "I'm going to give him a mild sedative."

Alfred stepped forward and slowly took Tim's hand in his, "Rest easy, young sir, and don't you fret, we'll have you right as rain and back on your feet in no time. I'll be back to check in on you after a short while." He smiled and gave the back of Tim's hand a quick pat.

"I... uh.. I'm sorry if I upset you, son. I'll be close by. Ok?" Bruce said and gave his youngest boy's shoulder a squeeze.

"All right, kiddo, stay put this time cause I don't think I could stand getting knocked on my ass twice in one day. Man's got an image to maintain, you know." Dick smiled and placed a hand on his brother's upper arm and leaned in to speak into Tim's ear, "Come back to us, Timmy. You can do it. We're all here for you."

Dick got up and turned to meet Bruce and Alfred just outside the infirmary to wait on Leslie but only made it about three feet from the door when Tim began to grunt and struggle about. Dick stopped and turned around, Tim was looking at him with an expression that teetered on the line between panic and frustration. Alfred placed his hand on Dick's shoulder and leaned in, "Go back to him, lad."

"It's all right, sweetheart, we're all right here. We'll be right out there." Leslie soothed as she injected the sedative into Tim's iv. "We're going to let you rest. No one's leaving. You're not alone."

Dick took one of Tim's hands and leaned over him, placing his other hand on the bed next to his pillow. "It's ok, Tim. You can close you eyes. I'll be here when you wake up. Ok?" Dick said as Tim fought the sedative. "We're all right here, and if you wake up and I'm not here, I'll see you in that camera right over there, and I'll come right in."

Leslie rubbed Tim's arm as she added, "Rest sweetheart."

"I'll wait for you before we start discussing things," she told Dick and silently left the room.

Dick sat down on the side of the bed again and returned his brother's gaze. "Why me, Timmy? Why not the others?" Dick asked as his brother's eyelids became too heavy to keep open. Tim snapped them open a couple times before he was overtaken by the sedative and sank back against the pillows. Dick stayed there for a few minutes, making sure his brother was asleep before slowly rising and left the room to join the others and hear what Leslie had to say.


	4. Chapter 4

_A big thank you goes out to ALSW and Creative Spark for their grammar Beta work. _

_And of course, to my Bat Beta, Kanny._

_Thanks gals.

* * *

_

_For summary and disclosure, please see Chapter 1. _

_--Princess Snowpuff is on loan from Kim and will be returned shortly.--

* * *

_

Chapter 4

Dick walked out of the infirmary and joined the others, all of who were gathered around the computer console. He noticed Bruce had already turned on the video feed from Tim's area.

"All right, what'd I miss?" Dick asked while turning up the audio on the camera.

"Nothing. We were just discussing care options. Long term if need be," Bruce answered.

"Well, that's a no-brainer. Tim stays here," Dick said in a tone that left no room for debate.

Bruce looked at Dick and nodded. "Good. Then it's unanimous."

"I can make a visit every other day for the first couple weeks. Just to check in with him and you all," Leslie stated.

Alfred cleared his throat. "I believe I speak for everyone present when I say, you are always a most welcome guest in this house. It is unfortunate that you're here professionally more than you are leisurely, however, do not wear yourself thin. All will be well here and if it is not, then unlike some…" Alfred paused for dramatic effect.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Unlike some, I do not have any qualms over picking up the phone and asking for your assistance."

"Thank you, Alfred, for your concern, all of you. But I won't be able to get a decent night's sleep unless I see Tim and give him a quick exam every couple days for at least a week."

Dick cleared his throat, "Well, just so you all know, I'm putting in for a leave of absence with the Department. I've got the Outsiders and the Titans working out a schedule to cover in Bludhaven until I mention otherwise," Dick stated as he studied the monitor with the sound of Tim moving. Satisfied that he was still asleep he continued.

"I'm moving back in for a while. I want to be here for Tim... _annnd _I thought you might like some company out there?" Dick asked as he directed his last statement toward Bruce.

"I'll take you up on that. It would... uh…be appreciated," Bruce replied with a slight smirk.

"It will be wonderful to have you with us, Master Dick." Alfred beamed.

"Well, since we've got all that settled, let's see. It's almost 8:30 in the morning. I know of a great Neurologist. His name is Dr. Kellar. His office opens at 9:00, but I'll give him a call on his cell phone. He owes me a personal favor or two and I'm sure I can get him out here sometime this evening."

Bruce nodded. "Thank you, Leslie. For everything." Bruce stood and extended his hand.

Leslie smiled and took his hand then pulled him in for a hug. "You're more than welcome."

Leslie stepped back and placed the stethoscope that hung around her neck into her bag.

"When would be a good time to move the young sir up to his room?" Alfred asked.

"Well, we can go ahead and do that now. He'd be more comfortable and..." Leslie paused.

"Go ahead, Les," Dick said

"Well, it's just that, Tim didn't appear to recognize anyone except Dick. In civilian clothes."

Dick looked from Leslie to Bruce who sat with his fingers steepled against his lips and nodded.

"Waiiiit a minute here... Are you insinuating that you don't want him in the cave because you can't trust, him?!" Dick asked while thrusting his hand toward the monitor.

"Dick, think about this for a moment." Bruce said, "Like Leslie said, you were the only one out of the four of us..."

"**You** don't know that." Dick pointed a finger at Bruce as he cut him off. "Maybe he just couldn't put it all together just then. He was practically dead for eight minutes, cut him some slack!"

Bruce sat in his chair and gave Dick a hard glare.

"Master Dick," Alfred said and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Allow me to ask you something." Alfred paused to think before starting with both a smile and a straight face that only Alfred could pull off.

"Would you say that your work...ah… that what you do for the cities you, Master Bruce and Master Tim go out in each night, is important?"

Dick rolled his eyes, "Alfred..."

Alfred smirked. "Humor an old friend."

Dick sighed. "All right. Then, yes. I do."

"Yes, I thought as much. Now, would you also agree to the fact that you are able to perform such deeds because of your alternative persona?"

Dick shook his head. "Alfred, I saw where you were going with this when you began."

Alfred stepped closer, placing both hands on Dick's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Dick, please hear me out."

Stunned by Alfred's informal address, Dick simply nodded.

"Are you able to perform such deeds because of your alternative persona?"

"Yes."

"Would you still be able to be Nightwing, Master Bruce Batman, and Master Tim, Robin if your identities were discovered?"

"No," Dick answered quietly.

"And if that were the case...How many lives would that affect?"

"Depending on the circumstances," Dick paused, then looked back to Alfred, "Too many to count."

Alfred nodded in agreement. "If we were to say.., play it safe, until we know more about Master Tim's prognosis, how many lives would that affect?"

Dick sighed and looked at his brother in the monitor then back to Alfred. "One."

"One, indeed, young sir. Now just one final question."

Alfred waited until he had Dick's undivided attention, "If roles were reversed, and you were the one in that bed…What would you have wanted us to do?"

Dick held Alfred's eyes for a moment before looking to Bruce who simply nodded.

Dick dropped his gaze to the floor then looked at the monitor for a while before turning around placing his palms on a nearby table which held test tubes, beakers, Bunsen burners and a couple very expensive digital microscopes. He hung his head for a moment before flipping it over with a loud growl.

Dick remained stood still for a moment, "Take it out of my trust fund." He said as he walked off.

Leslie looked from Bruce to Alfred for a second. "So...we're all decided?"

Bruce nodded toward the monitor to the sight of Dick unhooking Tim from the heart monitor, preparing him for the journey to his room.

Bruce got up and walked over to stand next to Dick just as he turned off the oxygen valve at the wall. Dick looked up and met Bruce's eyes for a moment before slowly draping the clear, thin tube across Tim's shoulders.

"Has the oxygen tank upstairs been serviced recently or do you need me to cart one from down here?"

"It's been serviced," Bruce answered.

"Ok, then I'll..." Bruce raised his index finger to interrupt.

"Dick, I know why this decision is so hard..."

"Let's just get Tim settled in upstairs first. Okay?" Dick interrupted.

"Are we all ready?" Leslie asked and made sure Tim was completely disconnected. Dick held Bruce's eye contact for a second, "I'll go and set up his room."

"Alfred's already left to do just that," Bruce countered.

"Then I'll help," Dick rebutted as he brushed past Bruce and began up the long staircase.

Alfred and Dick worked quietly, preparing Tim's room. The butler didn't have to ask to know that Dick and his mentor had words with one another. And as Alfred discerned from Dick's body language, whatever had been discussed…Alfred raised an eyebrow…or not discussed, was bothering his young charge.

"Should I pull the drapes closed, Alfred?"

Alfred stopped fluffing pillows and looked up. "Although it would be a shame to close off such a beautiful morning, I am certain Doctor Thompkins will require Master Tim to rest as much as possible for next few days at the very least."

Dick was pulling the last drape together as Bruce walked in with a still-sleeping Tim in his arms.

Alfred pulled back the covers as Bruce carefully placed his partner in the bed. Leslie reattached the monitor wires and once again the soft sound of a steady heart rhythm filled the room.

"Come on." Bruce nodded toward the door, "Let's finish our conversation."

"Not now. I promised Tim I'd be here when he wakes," Dick replied.

"Honey, the sedative I gave him will have him sleeping for at least a few more hours yet," Leslie said as she checked Tim's vitals and connections.

"Come on, We'll go just outside the door." Bruce said as he began to leave the room.

Dick shook his head as he followed Bruce out, knowing it was not a suggestion.

"Sit down." Bruce gestured to a chair next to the one in which he sat.

Again, not a suggestion.

Dick sat down heavily and rubbed his face with both hands before turning to look at Bruce.

"When's the last time you had some sleep?" Bruce asked.

Dick snorted, "When's the last time _you_ got some?"

"If I know Alfred…"

"Which you do," Dick quipped

"He'll already be making up your room."

Dick shook his head. "He really shouldn't fuss over me like that. He does enough around this place as it is." Dick turned to Bruce," And when does _he_ sleep?"

"I've stopped trying to figure out Alfred and all his Alfred-ways a long time ago. I've also given up on any possibility of talking him into hiring help. He said, of course, that it was my decision, but the _way_ he said it led me to believe I'd be having decaffeinated coffee and plain oatmeal for breakfast until they were dismissed." Bruce made a face. "So I gave up."

"Good call," Dick replied without a hint of laughter. "So, you wanted to talk? Let's talk."

"I just wanted to say that I know you're not upset about moving Tim out of the cave because of the issue of trust but rather, having to make this decision brings reality crashing home doesn't it?"

"I'd rather not think about that right now." Dick got up from his chair and walked over to stand in front of the large window.

"But you _have_ thought about it," Bruce stated.

"Of _course_ I've thought about it, Bruce. I've thought about it since I was forcing his heart to beat," Dick replied.

Bruce sat patiently and waited for Dick to continue, "I don't know." Dick turned around, leaning against the window sill and crossed his arms. "I guess it just seemed like everyone was so quick to throw in the towel and decide Tim wouldn't improve."

"No. We were just covering bases. Taking the worst case scenario and going from there."

Dick shook his head and pushed himself off the window. "But I don't think that way, Bruce. I mean, yeah, the worst case scenario always flashes through your mind. But I'm not a pessimistic person. I see the positive in a situation." Dick stopped pacing for a moment. "Like Tim waking up."

Bruce closed his eyes and raised his hand. "We don't know for sure if he was even awake."

Dick whirled around and pointed at Bruce, "That! That right there. _You_ see that he didn't acknowledge you, Leslie or Alfred. _You_ see that he wasn't aware and couldn't follow instructions."

Dick walked back to his chair and sat on the edge if its seat, "That's not what _I _see."

"I see someone whose heart and lungs took eight minutes to work again and who woke up after only three and a half hours. I see that Tim was aware enough to know he didn't want to be in that bed. I see that he knew enough to land a quick jab. Sure, I wasn't expecting it. But it was still precise and well-placed enough to make a connection. That's Robin coming through." Dick sighed, looking for the right words to sum up his thoughts.

Bruce took advantage of Dick's pause to speak. "I know how you think, Dick. Just like you know how I think. Just make sure you realize it _is_ possible to be realistic without being pessimistic." Bruce got up and rolled his head around to loosen his tense neck muscles.

"Get some sleep, Dick," he said before he turned and walked down the stairs to see Leslie out.

Dick watched as Bruce jogged down the stairs after Leslie. He gave a smile and a half wave when she looked up.

"Go to bed," she mouthed then took Bruce's offered arm as he walked her out to her car.

Alfred walked out of Tim's room, planning on heading of to the kitchen and whip up a light breakfast. He stopped short at the sight of Dick standing in the middle of the hallway, completely zoned out.

"Master Dick?" Alfred shook his head and gently touched Dick's arm. "Master Dick."

"Huh?" Dick turned bleary eyes to Alfred.

"Pardon my saying so, but perhaps it would best for you to lie down before you fall down?"

Dick gave Alfred a smirk, "Actually I was just thinking about making a pot of strong coffee."

Alfred sighed. "Of course you were. Give me a few minutes and I shall be back with a hot cup of... what is it Master Roy refers to it as?"

"Rotgut," Dick said with a grin. "A more effective variation of regular brew."

"Since I foresee no hopes of changing your mind to a relaxing cup of herbal tea, I shall return shortly with your...rotgut," Alfred said and descended down the staircase.

Dick looked at his watch.

9:50.

Bruce was most likely sitting in his study on a multi hour conference call with Lucius Fox and the Board in lieu of appearing in person.

Alfred was in the kitchen preparing breakfast or perhaps brunch.

Dick peeked in on Tim, then walked back into the hall and pulled out his cell phone. After the third ring, his favorite three-foot-tall gorgeous gal answered the phone.

"Hey, squirt, does dad know you're answering the phone?"

"Unca Dick!" Lian squealed, "Are you coming over? I miss you! And you have to see Princess Snowpuff's new tricks! She can sit and daddy showed her how to beg!"

Dick laughed, "I think he's been waiting for that to happen for a long time."

"Yeah! He worked with her for a long time until she o…o...obeyed!"

Dick laughed out loud, thinking of new ways to razz his friend on his 'Female Training.' Harper finally lands one...

"Speaking of Princess Snowpuff's master, is your dad around?"

"Ohh.. He's in the bathroom. You should call him back later, Unca Dick. He's been in there a long time."

"**Lian!**" Dick could barely hear Roy's shout over his own howls of laughter.

"Shut up," were Roy's words of greeting.

"Oh, man." Dick wiped his eyes, "I hear you finally have your dream woman." Dick said with as straight a face as he could muster.

"What?" Roy asked, with both confusion and intrigue in his voice.

"One that will sit up and beg for treats, oh, Master of Princess Snowpuff," Dick teased, holding his sides and doubled over.

"Hardy, har..har.., Wingnut. How's the kid?" Roy asked.

Dick sobered immediately and cleared his throat, "Same. He's still out from the sedative Leslie gave him."

Roy nodded on the other side of the line and ran a hand through his red hair, "What'cha need, man?"

"How goes the challenge of working something out for the 'Haven? Let me know if it'll run either group too thin. I can work something else out."

"Not a problem, Robbie," Roy cut in. "Things are smooth at the moment and everyone's more than eager to do their part."

"Okay. Thanks, Roy."

"Don't mention it."

"Uh... Roy, you didn't mention…"

"No. All I needed to say was Nightwing needs some backup and everything worked itself out. In fact, the only hitch was when Raven had to team up with Beast Boy. Vic said she turned a shade paler."

"Is that possible?" Dick asked in all seriousness.

"Never would have thought so. But then again we have a mutual friend that runs approximately 186,282.397 miles per second and has a big green Martian's phone number on speed dial."

"Good point," Dick answered. Both ends of the phone were quiet for a moment, "Look, Roy.."

"Don't even mention it, Dick. You've always been there for all of us, no matter what. It's about time you allowed us to return the favor."

Dick lowered his head and rubbed the carpet with his sneaker, "Thanks, Roy."

"Not a probl...She _what_?!... but I just... _aaauuughhh_... Look, man. I've gotta go."

"Lady problems?" Dick chuckled.

"Goodbye, _Dick_."

"Bye, Bowhead." Dick laughed and closed his phone. Having that squared away Dick allowed some of the weight to lift from his shoulders as he walked back into Tim's room.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Some scenes from this chaper were taken directly out of DC's Identity Crisis graphic novel. All credits and rights are those of DC comics._

_For summary and main disclosure, please see chapter 1_

_Thank you to ALSW for the great beta work. Love ya chick!_

* * *

_Previously on Trapped..._

_"How goes the challenge of working something out for the Haven? Let me know if it'll run either group too thin. I can work something else out."_

_"Not a problem, Robbie," Roy cut in. "Things are smooth at the moment and everyone's more than eager to do their part."_

_"Okay. Thanks, Roy."_

_"Don't mention it."_

_"Uh... Roy, you didn't mention…"_

_"No. All I needed to say was Nightwing needs some backup and everything worked itself out. In fact, the only hitch was when Raven had to team up with Beast Boy. Vic said she turned a shade paler."_

_"Is that possible?" Dick asked in all seriousness._

_"Never would have thought so. But then again we have a mutual friend that runs approximately 186,282.397 miles per second and has a big green martian's phone number on speed dial."_

_"Good point," Dick answered. Both ends of the phone were quiet for a moment, "Look, Roy.."_

_"I said, don't mention it, Dick. You've always been there for all of us, no matter what. It's about time you allowed us to return the favor."_

_Dick lowered his head and rubbed the carpet with his sneaker, "Thanks, Roy."_

_"Not a probl...She what?!... but I just... aaauuughhh.. . Look, man. I've gotta go."_

_"Lady problems?" Dick chuckled._

_"Goodbye, Dick."_

_"Bye, Bowhead." Dick laughed and closed his phone. Having that squared away Dick allowed some of the weight to lift from his shoulders as he walked back into Tim's room._

* * *

Chapter 5

Bruce stood silently against the doorway to Tim's room and watched as Alfred took his partner's vitals then fussed over his blankets.

He smiled to himself at Alfred's scowl. Dick was slouched down in a large overstuffed chair that had been set next to the bed, his legs propped up on the mattress, sneakers and all. Alfred carefully removed the empty coffee cup from Dick's hand before covering him with a light blanket. Regardless of the oppressive August days, the Manor was always kept at a comfortable 65 degrees.

"So much for Master Roy's rot gut'," Alfred said as he closed the bedroom door most of the way.

"That's two down, one to go," Alfred said.

"Don't start with me, Alfred," Bruce warned as they descended the grand staircase to the main hall.

"Nothing's gonna happen!"

Dick was caught between sleep and waking when he heard someone talking. Was it a dream? He blinked as he struggled to figure out where the voices were coming from.

"Dad... But I..."

"Tim?" Dick rubbed his eyes and leaned forward in the chair.

"Dad, please..."

"Hey, kiddo, it's okay," Dick tried to soothe his still-sleeping little brother as tears began to flow down Tim's cheeks.

"Dad, we're almost..."

"Wake up, Tim," Dick ordered, gently shaking his shoulder.

"**DAD!**" Tim screamed. In one swift movement he bolted from the bed and dashed out the door.

"Oh, hell," Dick sighed as he rushed off after his brother.

"Dad!" Tim screamed as he sprinted down the second story hallway, "Dad, I'm coming!"

"Tim! It's okay, Tim, stop!" Dick called as he watched his brother strip down to his undershirt and boxers as he ran.

"Dick, what's going on?!" Bruce demanded as he rushed up the stairs from the main hall.

"Third floor!" Dick shouted back as he takes the stairs three at a time.

"Barbara, is he--? Oh, G-d."

Dick sprinted into the hallway, coming to an abrupt halt when he found Tim kneeling over someone who wasn't not there, struggling aganst an object that is not in his hand.

"Get it out... Get it out! PLEASE!"

Dick started to rush to Tim's side when a strong grip to his arm held him back.

"Tim, it's okay..." Bruce says softly.

"Please..."

Bruce bent over and touched Tim's shoulder, "...It's okay..."

Tim turned at Bruce's touch "Batman, help. Please, get it out..." he pleaded through the river of tears streaming down his face.

Bruce quietly knelt on the floor next to Tim, wrapping his arms around him just as he had done that night not so long ago, telling him, "...It's okay. I've got you..."

Tim took a vice grip on Bruce's arm, turning his face into Bruce's chest, sobbing.

Dick stood leaning against the sink's counter top, desperately trying to hold back tears of his own. Witnessing the fresh and raw guilt which torments Tim, he remembered the void that had appeared when his own father's love was torn from his soul.

He relives it all over again.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You wanted me to stay and I told you I had to go. I told you that if I wanted to catch the guy, I had to get out there and find him. I'm so sorry, Dad, It's my fault. If I stayed with you I could have stopped him. I killed you dad. I KILLED YOU!" Tim wailed as Bruce removed his clutch on the invisible boomerang that had impaled his father's chest, tucking Tim's arms into his own.

"I'm so sorry. Dad. I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorry. **I'M SORRYYYYY!**" Tim screamed into Bruce's chest.

Bruce held his youngest son tighter, fighting against the violent trembling which wracked through Tim's body, telling him over and over that it wasn't his fault.

Alfred caught up with them at that moment and stood next to Dick as they both watched Bruce open his heart and offer any support and comfort he could give.

Then all of a sudden, it ended as soon as it began. Tim stopped sobbing and became very still.

"What happened?" Dick asked taking a step closer to Bruce and Tim.

Bruce pulled back a bit and looked at Tim, smoothing back the hair from his eyes. "I... I think he woke up."

"You mean he was sleep-walking? " Dick asked.

"It's the only thing I can think of," Bruce answered as Alfred stepped around Dick and crouched down in front of his youngest charge.

"Oh, my dear boy, that was quite a nasty dream, was it not?" Alfred asked as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and cleared the tears from Tim's face then gently wiped his nose.

Tim had regained his composure instantly, returning to his recent continence. The only sounds he made were the involuntary gasps of air his spasming diaphragm caused by the intense sobbing.

"Bruce, he looked at you. He called you Batman," Dick pointed out.

"I know," Bruce said quietly looking back to Tim.

"That means he knows. Don't you, little brother?" Tim brought his gaze up to look at Dick as his elder brother tucked a strand of hair behind Tim's ear.

"You know Bruce, Tim. I know you can hear me. I know you're in there. You've just got to work at it. Okay, Timmy? Fight. You can come back. We're waiting for you. We know you can do it."

Tim watched his big brother as Dick held his chin in his hand.

"Come on, kiddo, let's get you up off the floor. Can you stand for me, Tim? You did it just a minute ago. You ran all the way here. You can do it again. Ready?" Dick coached while taking his brother under his arms, hauling him to his feet. Tim stood for a second on shaky legs before his knees gave out.

"I've got ya," Dick said tightening his hold around Tim's chest. "Come on, spaghetti legs," Dick grunted as he hoisted Tim into his arms. "Let's get you back to bed."

Once again, Tim rested his head on his brother's shoulder as Dick walked them back down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

_For Summary and disclaimer please see Chapter 1._

* * *

_Previously On Trapped..._

_"Bruce, he looked at you. He called you Batman," Dick pointed out._

_"I know," Bruce said quietly looking back to Tim._

_"That means he knows. Don't you, little brother?" Tim brought his gaze up to look at Dick as his elder brother tucked a strand of hair behind Tim's ear. _

_"You know Bruce, Tim. I know you can hear me. I know you're in there. You've just got to work at it. Okay, Timmy? Fight. You can come back. We're waiting for you. We know you can do it."_

_Tim watched his big brother as Dick held his chin in his hand. _

_"Come on, kiddo, let's get you up off the floor. Can you stand for me, Tim? You did it just a minute ago. You ran all the way here. You can do it again. Ready?" Dick coached while taking his brother under his arms, hauling him to his feet. Tim stood for a second on shaky legs before his knees gave out._

_"I've got ya," Dick said tightening his hold around Tim's chest. "Come on, spaghetti legs," Dick grunted as he hoisted Tim into his arms. "Let's get you back to bed."_

_Once again, Tim rested his head on his brother's shoulder as Dick walked them back down the hall._

* * *

Chapter 6

"Bruce, I'd like you to meet Dr. Kellar." Leslie and the Neurologist stood as Bruce entered his study.

"Hello, thank you for coming out on such short notice, Dr. Kellar."

"It's not a problem, Mr. Wayne. Well, if everyone's ready, let's begin." Dr Kellar said as he opened Tim's file and his recorded outcome of his examination just moments ago.

"Is Alfred upstairs with Tim?" Bruce asked quietly as he took a seat next to Dick.

"Yeah, but I rerouted the audio feed to the phone in Tim's room so he could listen in," Dick replied.

Bruce raised his eyebrows and nodded his head as the doctor began to explain his findings.

"First of all. There two different method of evaluation to determine the level of coma an individual is at."

"So he is definitely in a coma then," Bruce interjected.

"Unfortunately, yes. Now, the first scale is called the Glasgow scale. This evaluation method is used more often with completely unresponsive, comatose patients. As we know, this is not the case with Tim."

"Thus, I based his evaluation upon the second scale, called the Rancho Los Amigos coma scale. This scale has eight different levels ranging from Level I, where the patient appears to be in a deep sleep and is unresponsive to stimuli all the way up to Level VIII, where the patient is alert and oriented, and is able to recall and combine past and recent events. He can learn new activities and living skills, though deficits in stress tolerance, judgment, abstract reasoning, social, emotional, and intellectual capacities may persist."

"It is my diagnosis that Tim is between Levels IV, Confused-Agitated and Level V, Confused-Inappropriate, Non-Agitated," Dr. Kellar paused as he flipped through a couple pages in his file.

Bruce took that opportunity to firmly grab Dick's knee, putting an immediate halt to its bobbing up and down in nervous tension. Dick looked at Bruce and gave him a sheepish grin before wiping his palms on his jeans and leaned forward resting his arms on his knees.

"Now, I know that sounds like just a bunch of medical lingo. Here's a rundown of Tim's awareness. He is at a heightened state of activity and is severely confused, disorientated and mainly unaware of events. He can experience frequent behavior which is bizarre and inappropriate to his immediate environment. When I say 'inappropriate' I simply mean for example, attempting to climb into bed while in the kitchen. There is no bed in the room thus, the action is bizarre and in appropriate."

"As far as physical activity, I have witnessed Tim's ability to sit both in a chair and on the floor. When he is sitting on the floor, I recommend two positions. One is cross-legged. With this position he will be more able to balance himself without the help from others, while at the same time will provide a light stretch to his leg and hip muscles. The other position will be to have his legs straight out. With this position, I am not confident he will display a consistent effort to use his arms to hold himself upright. Someone will sit behind him, to allow Tim to lean back against and be supported by the other person."

"A good time for these floor exercises would be while you watch television. Pick a program that you know he enjoys. Make comments about the episode as you normally would. Remember, just because he may not reply or respond in any way to your words, does not mean they are not being received. Continuing to keep the normality of his every day life present, will greatly affect the speed of recovery."

"Now, all these things that I have witnessed so far belong under the category of Level IV. The last item to discuss in regard to this level is the occurrences of heightened physical activity. I have been informed that Tim had a great deal of this earlier in the day. This activity was performed under an agitated state was it not?"

"Very agitated," Dick answered.

"That is to be expected under Level IV. This show of heightened physical activity is not necessarily a purposeful act, rather a reaction to whatever is causing the agitation."

"That wraps up Level IV. Does anyone have any questions?"

"Uh, yeah," Dick cleared his throat. "This afternoon, when Tim bolted through the house, he was very aware and was _not_ inappropriate for what he was going through. Was he having a flashback? A dream? Is sleepwalking possible, and if so, is it normal for a person to display normal actions and range of motion?"

Dr. Kellar smiled, "Let's see if I can answer your questions without missing one. Flashbacks. As with all medical conditions there is never one guide of behavior and/or symptoms, complications, etc, that is written in stone. That being said, In my 24 years of experience as a Neurologist, I have only come across 7 such cases out of hundreds where claims of flashbacks have been reported. I am not _dismissing_ the possibility. I am merely stating that there is not enough material on my accord, nor in reference publications to support such a claim."

"As far as dreaming goes, at Tim's current awareness state, tests and research has been shown that, yes, dreams most definitely are a normal and regular occurrence. As far as sleepwalking, allow me to first explain this activity. There are different stages of a persons sleep pattern:

Stage 1- drowsiness,

Stage 2- light sleep,

Stage 3- deep delta,

Stage 4- a more intense stage 3 and

Stage 5- REM or Rapid Eye Movement; dreaming or paradoxical sleep.

Sleepwalking occurs during Stage 4.

"The sleep walking activity may include simply sitting up and appearing awake while actually asleep, getting up and walking around, or complex activities such as moving furniture, going to the bathroom, dressing and undressing, and similar activities. The episode can be very brief, say a few seconds or minutes, or can last for 30 minutes or longer."

"One common misconception is that a sleepwalker should not be awakened. It is not dangerous to awaken a sleepwalker, although it is common for the person to be confused or disoriented for a short time upon awakening. Another misconception is that a person cannot be injured when sleepwalking. Actually, injuries caused by such things as tripping and loss of balance are common for sleepwalkers. I recommend blocking off the top of the stairs when Tim is sleeping and even installing a bolt lock at the top of doors either leading to the outdoors, or to potentially hazardous rooms."

"As far as normal range of motion and actions, as Tim clearly exhibited earlier today, that is possible. Actually, today's excitement is proof that he is extremely likely to make a complete recovery. He has not lost the ability to perform such tasks, only is unable to easily access them. While he was in a deep sleep, his mind tapped into his memory and thus living through that memory, was able to perform naturally. Think of it as using the 'system restore' feature in your operating system. During his dream he was able to travel to the past before his accident and access those resources. When he wakes up, though, he will revert back to his current state."

"Phew," Dr. Kellar smiled and took a drink from his water. "Did I get them all?"

Dick smiled and nodded.

"Well, lastly, there is one goal that Tim met withing Level V. He responded purposely to external stimuli."

"By responded purposely you mean he became agitated?"

"Yes. But in direct response to an uncomfortable sensation, exhibiting clear displeasure."

Bruce nodded in understanding.

"Are there any other questions?"

"What proactive actions will we be taking to accelerate Tim's recovery? I don't care which country they come from or how much it costs. Only the most elite will do." Bruce stated.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," Dr. Kellar nodded. "I'm sure you've heard of the medical group, NeuroHealth. They have the top specialists in both Neurology and Neuropsychology. They have a few branches based across the globe and we're lucky enough that one is as near as Metropolis. They will contact you in the morning and send a representative out to discuss the best form of rehabilitation, called Coma Arousal Therapy."

"It's astounding success rates lie in the frequency, intensity and duration of environmental stimuli that Tim will receive. As you will be shown, the coma arousal programs are very labor intensive and it has been suggested that the best reactions happen when family members perform the various five-sensory activities. Those being, vision, hearing, touch, taste and smell. It has been proven that relatives have received a higher degree of awareness than detected by outside therapists."

"Uh, yeah, about that.." Dick began and leaned forward on his knees again, "Tim seems to be unaware of everyone," he paused to clear his throat, "but me. Why, I mean. We all love and support him. I'm elated because he _dose_ see me and seem to respond to me as best he can," Dick paused again, this time to give Bruce a quick glance. Knowing exactly what his son was struggling with, he offered a nod of encouragement that spoke volumes. Dick turned back to the doctor, "I feel bad that I'm the only one he seems to be aware of."

Dr. Kellar offered both Bruce and Dick a warm, comforting smile, "First let me assure you, that this occurrence is very common, and happens practically every time. One or two family members are singled out and are communicated to and through. This most likely is someone that the patient is most close to and secure with. I don't have to assume to come to a conclusion that you and Tim are very close. Correct?"

Dick swallowed hard, "Yeah, that's right," he answered with a thick voice.

Once again, the doctor's smile seemed to envelope the occupants of the room with understanding and genuine compassion, "That is why he is able to connect with you. Without having to consciously think about it, your bond remains strong and has become an anchor for him. In time, others loved ones will be brought into realization and response. I know it's a difficult dynamic in emotions to experience, unparalleled joy and relief for you yet guilt for the others. But take solace in knowing, this is both common and expected and is a very positive occurrence."

"All of you must remain positive, I cannot convey enough, the importance in that. Actions and body language speak volumes. Tim will draw from your strengths and pick up on your hopes and expectations. Always keep those a step above what reality might be trying to tell you. Like I stated at the beginning, there is no guarantee or a written-in-stone outcome. Anything is possible."

Dr. Kellar paused to both drink and to allow time for other questions or concerns to arise. When he was certain everyone was satisfied with the information and answers he had provided, he straightened out the stack of exam papers and closed Tim's file.

Bruce nodded, "Thank you very much for all you help and for seeing Tim after hours."

"Not at all, I know I just threw a wealth of information at you all at once. Please, if you have any questions anytime, day or night. Or, if you need me for anything. Please call me." Dr. Kellar said and handed Bruce his business card.

"We will, thank you again."

Dr. Kellar stood and placed Tim's folder in his briefcase just as Alfred appeared with his trench coat. "Master Dick, I believe you'd like to know that the Tivo in Master Tim's room, automatically changed the television channel to a movie involving seven-foot tall tomatoes, severely lacking in special effects."

"_Attack of the Killer Tomatoes_?" Dick asked then quickly glanced at his watch, "Oh man! Nice to meet you Dr. Kellar, and thanks. I've gotta run."

"Thanks, Al," Dick yelled over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room.

* * *

It was 9:45 pm when Bruce slipped into Tim's room to find Dick slouched back against the headboard with a goofy grin spread across his face as he watch the cheesy black and white horror flick. He sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his slumbering partner. 

"How long's he been asleep?" Bruce asked, just above a whisper.

"About forty minutes or so." Dick answered taking his focus from the large television in the room to his little brother who had curled up tight against his side.

"Did he seek out that position or did you help him?" Bruce asked observing how Tim's head rested on his brother's chest and how Dick's arm wrapped protectively around him.

"No, he decided himself. We were just sitting here watching the movie when I noticed his head kept nodding. I asked him if he were tired, if he wanted to finish the movie later and he looked at me for a couple seconds then slowly scooted down and rested his head against my arm. I raised my arm and he quickly moved in and curled up."

Bruce lightly brushed Tim's hair from his eyes, "I'll be going out soon, I wanted to know if you wanted to come."

"I'd like to, Bruce, but I was planning on stopping by the precinct giving my captain an idea of how much time I need off."

"He's going to be there this time of night?" Bruce asked.

"When's he _not_ there, would be a more appropriate question. I'll catch up with you when I get back though," Dick said.

"All right," Bruce nodded and watched Tim sleep peacefully in the safety of his brother's embrace. "I'll see you then."

* * *

"Wha.. Who are you?" Cluemaster stammered when the black nylon sack had been removed from his head, staring at the ominous figure which was one with the shadows. 

The figure remained motionless and the Cluemaster began to wonder if anyone was actually there when the shadow exploded forward, taking the criminal by the neck and slamming him into the opposite wall. Cluemaster's pupils dilated wide with fright.

"I ask. You answer. That's the way this game works." came the menacing growl.

Recognition flashed in Cluemaster's eyes not from the voice, but from the sliver of moonlight which entered through a crack in the sealed off section of Blackgate prison.

"You're not the Bat. But you _are_ one of his brats aren't you. I was expecting to run into you in Blüdhaven the other night. It was a real treat to find tweetie bird instead."

Nightwing saw red at the enjoyment Cluemaster found in the condescending nickname for his little brother, the brother still unresponsive in a coma. With his grip still tight around Cluemaster's throat, he yanked him from the wall with a scowl, landing a powerful punch to the face of the villain. Taking pleasure in the distinct crunch of a nose breaking, he watched as Cluemaster sailed backwards in the air, landing firmly on his back with a thud that echoed throughout the room, blood spattering around his body.

The unfortunate criminal didn't have a chance to compute what had happened before he was hauled roughly from the basement floor and suffered a quick knee to the gut, forcing the air from his lungs seconds before an uppercut to his jaw caused a blinding pain to explode throughout his head. Cluemaster waited for the jarring impact with the concrete floor and was horrified to find that Nightwing still had a death hold on his orange prison-issue jumpsuit. He could tell that the seething vigilante was taking enjoyment in the brutal attack and the thought of not being able to survive this beating burned into his mind.

He found his expected union with the floor after being flung several feet into the air seconds before a round house kick connected with his back. Landing face first into the concrete littered with dead rodents and stagnant rainwater, Cluemaster silently prayed that either the beating would end or he would die. Which ever came soonest. Paralyzing fear gripped his soul as he felt the vigilante, seemingly insane with furry, harshly toss him onto his back and grind a heavy knee into his chest.

"Like I said," Nightwing began with eerie calmness, "I ask. You answer. That's the way this game works."

In a last ditch effort to save face, the beaten and broken criminal tried his luck with another question, "What if I don't want to play your game?"

"Then you won't like my rules," Nightwing stated then pressed an escrima stick down on Cluemaster's larynx with just enough pressure to reduce his air intake by fifty percent.

"You... you can't do that," Cluemaster rasped. "I'm a prisoner, I've got rights."

"Those rules don't apply to me. I'm a vigilante, remember? I work outside the law." Nightwing stated in a cool and collective voice, applying slightly more pressure.

"Ok, ok!" Cluemaster yelped, "Sayin' I tell you what you want to know, what do I get out of it? What's in it for me?"

Nightwing flashed his victim a grin that made his skin crawl, "You get to wipe your own ass for the rest of your life, Arthur."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that either you tell me exactly what I want to know, the first time I ask, or I inject you with a near lethal dose of pancuronium bromide." Nightwing explained as he pulled a syringe from his glove.

"What's that?" Cluemaster asked with a profound quiver to his voice. "You're a cape... capes don't kill."

Nightwing nodded, "Very true, Arthur. And that's is quite the unfortunate fact for you, my friend, Death is much too good for your sorry hide."

"Then..then what are you gonna do?" Cluemaster stammered.

"Arthur," Nightwing began with awe in his voice. "Have you ever heard of a condition called Locked In Syndrome?"

"N..no"

"Locked-in syndrome is very tragic, and rare neurological disorder where an individual is completely paralyzed of their voluntary muscles in all parts of the body except for those that control eye movement. Some of the causes for such a condition range from traumatic brain injury, diseases of the circulatory system, or in your case, a medication overdose." Nightwing paused to allow that last part sink in.

"Those with locked-in syndrome are completely conscious and can think and reason, but are unable to speak or move. The disorder leaves you completely mute and paralyzed. Communication may be possible with blinking eye movements, but even that is not a guarantee."

"Now that we know and understand the rules, let's play. I know you still work with members from the Suicide Squad. Who were you working with the night you attempted to rob Bludhaven First National Bank? I hear it was the Electrocutioner and that big dumb dufface, Czonk. Is that correct?"

"Yea..yeah."

"Good boy, now, where are they?"

"I don...donno."

Nightwing sighed and shook his head sadly, "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. I explained the rules, didn't I? I was very careful to be precise and exact with the details."

Cluemaster didn't answer, frozen with anticipation.

"In all fairness, if you break the rules, you don't get to play the game." Nightwing said as he jammed the syringe into Cluemaster's shoulder and began to inject the serum.

Cluemaster screamed in horror as the contents of the syringe burned through his veins.

"You know, I'm a fair guy. I'd like to think that I'm even nice, so I'm going to give you one more chance to play by the rules. Answer my question truthfully and I'll forego the rest of the injection. You'll only lose control over various muscle groups, instead of them all. Where. Are. They?"

Cluemaster battled against the panic that overtook his mind as he could feel a numbing sensation travel throughout his body. "They...they... uh... we, were supposed to meet up at the Motor Lodge motel on Route 42."

"Not good enough, Arthur. You've been incarcerated. They won't stay there. Think hard, my friend. Last chance."

"Uh... the um..loading docks. Ther..there's an old run down shack. Used to be the night watch man's...but it's all overgrown with scrub and forgotten about. Tha..that's where we were going to meet up if something bad went down." Cluemaster finished his statement on the verge of tears.

"See, now that wasn't so hard, now was it? Playing the game fair makes it more fun for all participants. However..." Nightwing paused as a darkness overshadowed his face. "There is a very good friend of mine, whom I consider my brother, that isn't able to play this or any other game. I think it would be only fair to return the favor. Just to even up the stakes."

Cluemaster screamed in horror as Nightwing forced the rest of the serum through the syringe and into his body. "Nooo...you..you said, if I..plaa byyy ruuzzzz..." Cluemaster's protest of terror was ended by the sudden onslaught of complete paralysis.

Nightwing leaned forward and whispered into Cluemaster's ear, "I forgot to tell you, I don't always play by the rules either." he said then calmly raised to his feet and jumped up to catch one of the many pipes that snaked their way throughout the ceiling, then flung himself to the ledge of a broken window. "Don't worry Arthur. They'll be an anonymous tip to your location. Hopefully the message will be conveyed before the rats pick up the stink from your blood. But look on the bright side. It's not like you'll feel them as they gnaw into your flesh." Nightwing vanished through the window.

Nightwing waited until he easily made it past the prison wall and into the surrounding woods before he allowed himself to release a snort of laughter.

"Find what you were looking for?" a deep voice asked, from just behind Nightwing.

"Yeah. Wanna go finish this?" Nightwing asked in a serious tone.

Batman looked at his protégé for a moment, "Let's go."

As they approached the Batmobile, Batman glanced at Nightwing, "How much did you give him?"

Nightwing shrugged, "About 5cc."

Batman raised an eyebrow behind his cowl, "Bit much don't you think?"

"No." Came the dark reply, "But give him about a week. It'll wear off and he'll be fine."

"Fine physically..." Batman countered.

"Ask me if I give a damn about his mental state," Nightwing challenged, then took a cleansing breath, "Besides, that's what tax payers' dollars are for. Let the prison shrinks earn their pay. He'll get over it and more likely than not have an enlightened perspective in the criminal career."

Batman looked at Nightwing from over the roof of the Batmobile as the canopy retracted, "Do you have a clear head now? Are you focused?"

"No worries, big guy, I'm not taking a chance on botching up this bust. I'm cool. Let's go."

Without another word, they jumped into their seats each silently looking forward to retribution as the Batmobile roared to life and rocketed off toward Blüdhaven.

Literature credits:

NINDS Locked-In Syndrome Information courtesy of the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke National Institutes of Health Bethesda, MD.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you ALSW for the great beta work._

_Also, BIG thanks to ALSW, Kanny and Creative Spark for pulling me out of the muck more than once with this chapter. Love you gals!_

_The word 'container' in this chapter is referencing to ISO containers (also known as isotainers) that can be loaded and sealed intactly onto container ships, railroad cars, planes and trucks. For a visual link, please copy and paste this into your browser window:_

* * *

_Previously on Trapped... _

"_Find what you were looking for?" a deep voice asked, from just behind Nightwing._

"_Yeah. Wanna go finish this?" Nightwing asked in a serious tone._

_Batman looked at his protégée for a moment, "Let's go."_

_As they approached the Batmobile, Batman glanced at Nightwing, "How much did you give him?"_

_Nightwing shrugged, "About 5cc."_

_Batman raised an eyebrow behind his cowl, "Bit much don't you think?"_

"_No." Came the dark reply, "But give him about a week. It'll wear off and he'll be fine."_

"_Fine physically..." Batman countered._

"_Ask me if I give a damn about his mental state," Nightwing challenged, then took a cleansing breath, "Besides, that's what tax payers' dollars are for. Let the prison shrinks earn their pay. He'll get over it and more likely than not have an enlightened perspective in the criminal career."_

_Batman looked at Nightwing from over the roof of the Batmobile as the canopy retracted, "Do you have a clear head now? Are you focused?"_

"_No worries, big guy, I'm not taking a chance on botching up this bust. I'm cool. Let's go."_

_Without another word, they jumped into their seats each silently looking forward to retribution as the Batmobile roared to life and rocketed off toward Blüdhaven. _

* * *

Chapter 7 

Batman cut the lights to the Batmobile, allowing it to coast to a stop. Neither Batman nor Nightwing spoke, each taking a mental assessment of their new playing field.

Batman stole a glimpse of his partner beside him, recalling their brief conversation, rather Batman's insistence, that Nightwing would enter this battle focused and detached from his personal life.

Nightwing had agreed; nothing more was said.

Still, Batman knew his son. Nightwing was able to push aside personal grudges and vendettas when it came time for action, second only to his mentor. However, to Nightwing, this ability could only be done to a certain degree. When it concerned the people his son held most dear in his life, those he considered family, be it adopted or the closest of friends, he could only dissociate himself so much, the rest still entering battle with him because of his heart.

Although some might see this as a weakness, Batman did not see it as such. Rather, he saw it as the ever-present light that had always radiated from his son. It could be extinguished only so much, before returning, shining brighter than before. It was that same light that had broke through the oppressive darkness Batman had buried himself in all those years before Dick Grayson had entered his life. Regardless of the degree of successful disassociation, Batman still considered Nightwing to be among the elite few to enter into battle with a trained and disciplined mind.

No, this was not a weakness; this was humanity at its best.

After one last equipment check and giving each other a simultaneous nod of readiness, they exited the vehicle.

Both vigilantes scaled the side of a large container, ready to be loaded on the next international trade ship. Nightwing crouched down and viewed the terrain with his night-vision lenses, before zooming in on their target.

"It's right where Cluemaster said it would be," Nightwing said as he zeroed out the zoom on his lenses, bringing them back to normal levels.

Batman said nothing at first, finishing his own assessment. "It's backed by overgrowth on two sides, west and south. Granted, it is a sparse area of brush..."

"...but just enough to warrant a sweep," Nightwing answered Batman's thought. "I'll flank the east side, work my way around to the west, maybe I'll flush out a few pheasants."

Batman nodded, "I'll clear the alleyways among the four containers in front. If you come across no rear exit, give the signal and we'll go in," Batman ordered then stood preparing to move out.

"One more thing, Batman," Nightwing cautioned, "Make sure you go in there detached and with a clear head."

"I'll await your signal," was Batman's reply, then he was gone.

Nightwing snickered to himself at the smile that never manifested on his mentor's face and was absent from his voice, yet, was there all the same.

Batman had finished snaking his way between the last two containers when his earpiece chirped, "Ready on your, go," Nightwing confirmed, there was no rear exit and all was clear around the shack.

Batman nodded to his partner as they stood at either side of the only entry point. Nightwing silently counted down with his fingers, "...2...1," Batman kicked the door in and Nightwing threw in smoke pellets as he dove for the east corner; Batman took the west.

Both remained in a crouch for a moment, taking in the empty one room shack.

"They were here all right, and by the looks of it, Czonk is still addicted to bubble gum," Nightwing said, sifting through the empty wrappers, idly looking them over, trying to see if any clues would reveal themselves.

"Strawberry-lemonade this time," he said, sniffing one of the many wrappers that littered the window sill.

"We've got nothing here, let's go. Cluemaster and his goons usually operate out of Gotham. If they're anywhere, they'll be there. You can go over the files on the way back to town," Batman said as he and Nightwing cautiously exited the shack.

"Can you think of any locations they frequented the most while laying low**wwaaaaghhh****ཀ**" Nightwing's question ended in a cry of pain as a bolt of electricity slammed into his back, exceeding his suit's insulated tolerance level.

Batman instantly threw a batarang from under his cape, lodging itself into the power mechanism on the Electrocutioner's right arm.

"Nightwing!" Batman shouted as his partner dropped to the ground.

"You've got good timing, Batman, you almost missed us," Cluemaster said as he jumped down from atop one of the containers.

"..._ungh_..." Nightwing groaned as he got to his feet, "_10,000 volts are too excessive, Nightwing... Try to be reasonable, Nightwing,' _said the Bat" Nightwing muttered, as Batman helped him to his feet. "I'm definitely making upgrades to the suit when we get back."

"Don't be foolish, Les, you know you and your partner don't have a chance," Batman warned.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that, Batman. After all, your winged friend looks mighty dazed at best. I'd say that evens up the score."

"You know what they say about looks, Sparky," Nightwing said, as he took a fighting stance, "they can be awful deceiving."

"How ironic, that you'd use that choice of words, Nightwing. It 'looks' like it's just the three of us doesn't it?" the Electrocutioner said with a grin.

"I don't think I'm going to like where this is going," Nightwing whispered to Batman.

"But if you were to take a closer look, you'd see that there are many more than just us." On que, Czonk opened a door from inside one of the containers and twenty-some thugs walked out with various weapons in hand.

"Yep, I was right." Nightwing said as he and Batman positioned themselves back to back, "I don't like it."

"You'd be surprised who'd be willing to take a crack at taking down Nightwing _and_ the Batman for virtually no pay. Oh, that reminds me, Batman, where is your _other_ foul? I never did find out how long a bird can survive in a cage with no windows."

Batman felt his veins burn with rage as the of the sinister laugh echoed off the waters in the harbor.

"Get themཀ" Came the battle cry and before Batman or Nightwing could blink they were consumed by a swarm of angry, blood-thirsty criminals ready to put an end to the never-ending crimp to their illegal schemes.

Batman and Nightwing both threw out smoke pellets then stood their ground as those from the back, too far away from the smoke to be affected, pushed through their coughing and gasping brothers in crime.

Nightwing jumped at the first to charged him with a high knee to the face while blocking the thug's large knife with his escrima stick. Sensing another coming up from behind, Nightwing backhanded his current opponent with the stick in his other hand, following through with his current motion to turn and grab his new target by the shoulders, slamming him to the ground. Positioning himself for the next challenge, Nightwing performed a handspring off the goon's shoulders and flipped himself in the air, catching his opponent in the chest, knocking the air out of him as he crashed to the ground.

Batman crouched down at the last second and charged, ramming into mid sections and flipping his aggressors over both shoulders, purposely causing a collision with one that was unfortunate enough to be standing behind him at the time. As more charged they paused for a moment as Batman leapt into the air and seemed to move in slow motion as he completed a full turn, his cape flowing behind him, resembling an ominous shadow that threatened to swallow everything in its wake.

Their pause lasted less than a second. Realtime caught up with them as one thug caught a heavy boot to the face at the same time two more were punched out as gravity pulled Batman back to the ground.

"Get them you morons. There's only two of them!" The Electrocutioner screamed and aimed his unharmed conductor at Batman. Seeing this out of the corner of his eye, Batman quickly turned and tossed both him and the thug he was battling to the ground. He wasn't sure if the bolts were set to stun or kill to an unprotected individual, but he wasn't about to take the chance finding out.

Realizing he'd be able to avoid only part of the bold of electricity, Batman turned and wrapped his cape around both him and the villain he was fighting. Just as Nightwing had experienced earlier, his suit had deflected the majority of the blast; overflow knocking him to the ground.

Nightwing's next opponent ran at him, whipping a length of chain over his head, just before he attempted to fling it around his throat, Nightwing caught the chain and gave it a hard yank, kicking the goon in the gut before he had a chance to fall to the ground. Feeling a hand grab his shoulder, with almost superhuman speed, Nightwing grabbed the wrist of his enemy with his opposite hand and bent forward, spilling his opponent over his hip.

His attention was snapped to the sky as a bolt of electricity sliced through the air, seemingly illuminating each molecule of water that made up the humid night air. Before he could act, Nightwing witnessed Batman turn at the last moment in an attempt to avoid the bright arc of electricity. Concern bled from every pore as he witnessed the bolt slam into Batman's cape, causing his mentor to fall to the ground.

Taking advantage of Nightwing's distraction, a large fist slammed into the side of his jaw as another foe planted a hard kick into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. Eyes still on his fallen partner, Nightwing dug the heel of his hand under the chin of his attacker, forcing it back, leaving him no option, but to release the headlock.

Nightwing covered the distance between Batman and himself with ease, rendering unconscious anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. "Batman!" Nightwing yelled as he shot off a jumpline, penetrating the side of a nearby container, reeling himself up high enough to pull off a double somersault and landed hard on top of the two goons attempting to beat his partner. He then grabbed the one attempting to regain his footing by the waist and flung him into a thug directly behind him, knocking their heads together, both dropped to the ground.

"You alright, big guy?" Nightwing asked as he began to help Batman to his feet.

Noticing the group of remaining thugs quickly closing the gap, Batman gave a quick nod, "Time to fly."

"Yeah!" Nightwing exclaimed with a full grin, as he pulled his partner from the ground. In turn, Batman grasped Nightwing's wrists in both his hands, rotating twice, Batman threw all his 210 pounds into the final rotation, flinging his partner high into the air.

Nightwing quickly produced two explosive birdarangs in each hand and strategically threw them into he ground, incapacitating the remaining thugs who were stupid enough to stick around when others had fled, deducting that they were no-match for the two angry vigilantes.

Memories of days battling crime together flooded Batman's mind as he watched Nightwing soar through the night air with the art and style he been blessed with since birth. Nostalgia was ripped from Batman's heart as his son's graceful landing was destroyed by an unending bolt of electricity.

"**_NNNGGRRAHHH!_**" Nightwing cried out and arched his back as his consciousness began to fade.

"NO!" Batman yelled as he watched his son's rigid body collide with the unyielding ground.

"I will not go down, Batman!" The Electrocutioner laughed as he refused to cut the circuit between the conduit on his hand and Nightwing's jolting body.

With a primal yell, Batman charged his last two opponents, a hard-impact batarang crashed into the Electrocutioner's head, forcing his deadly bolt to end as he fell unconscious to the ground. Czonk, meanwhile, still dazed from Nightwing's explosive birdarangs, staggered to his feet. Without slowing his speed for his fallen partner, Batman flung two Bat-bolas with ultimate precision. Czonk crashed to the ground as the nylon cords quickly wrapped themselves around the large man's legs and arms.

Foregoing securing the Electrocutioner, content that his concussion would have him out of the game for the moment, Batman dropped down to Nightwing's side. Ripping off his gloves to search for a pulse, Batman tried not to think of how the powerful electric current might have stopped his son's heart.

"Nightwing! Nightwing, answer me!" Batman shouted while checking his partner's vitals and was flooded with relief at finding a strong heartbeat and even respirations, "Nightwing, can you hear me?"

Upon receiving no response, Batman produced a small tin from his belt and waved the contents under his partner's nose, causing Nightwing to wake with a start. "Easy, how do you feel?" Batman asked as he gently pushed his son's shoulders back to the ground.

"Like my head is gonna explode," Nightwing moaned, holding his head in both his hands.

Batman pulled out another item from his belt and placed a thin adhesive strip to Nightwing's forehead, "That'll help with the pain. I'm going to secure the Electrocutioner. You, stay here. Don't get up. I'll be right back."

"Uh huh..." Nightwing mumbled closing his eyes, in an attempt to ignore his surroundings currently spinning out of control.

"...approximately 17, including the two main suspects from an armed robbery which occurred last night at the Blüdhaven First National Bank," Nightwing heard Batman calling in the details, "...Dock 9. Batman out."

"Can you stand?" Batman asked his partner, helping him to sit up.

"Yeah. Hey, I thought lightning didn't strike twice in the same place," Nightwing said, rubbing the back of his head as he stood on shaky legs.

"Nature-created lightning, son. Not lunatic-created lightning."

"Oh," Nightwing replied as he was helped into the Batmobile.

Flashing lights could be seen from a distance as the Batmobile's engine roared to life. Nightwing leaned his head back against the seat and squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a moan as Batman pulled back onto the road.

"Alfred," Batman spoke into his communicator while glancing to his son.

"Here, sir."

"Prepare for an EKG, EEG, echo, x-rays, and a full lab work up on electrolytes, enzymes, the whole nine yards."

"Right away, sir, is Nightwing alright?" Alfred asked as he hurried about the cave's infirmary.

"I'm fine, Alfie, who--, who's with Tim if you're in the cave," Nightwing asked then leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands.

"Not to worry, Dr. Leslie is sitting with Master Tim, he's been sleeping quite peacefully since you left."

Batman looked to his son again, "ETA, six minutes, Batman out."

"How you holding up?" Batman asked, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"..._mngh_...not so good," came the pathetic response.

"Your head still? Anything else, joint, muscles, anything fractured?" Batman asked, knowing muscle contractions due to electrocution can be intense enough to cause fractures, or even dislocation to the shoulders.

"...head, yes, the rest, yes, yes, no, and... I feel kind of sick," Dick warned in a small voice.

Batman flipped the air conditioning to high, focusing the vents in Dick's direction at that last symptom, "Hold on, we're almost there."

"Um, I don't think I can wait that long," came Nightwing's shaky reply.

"We're entering the cave now, just hold on a second," Batman coaxed, not sure whether to drive fast and risk the curves in the cave's road, possibly upsetting Dick's stomach more or drive slow and take longer to get to their destination. Batman's questions were instantly answered as he sped through the cave to the sound of Dick losing the battle against his rebelling stomach.

"Hold on!" Batman urged, wondering if the cave's road had always been that long. "Alfred, Code B B, repeat, Code Bravo, Bravo," Batman barked into his communicator.

"'_ungh_... uh, Bat..man,"

"Just a couple seconds, kiddo," Batman breathed easier as light from the main room illuminated from behind the last curve.

"...uh...oh," Nightwing gulped with both hands to his mouth.

"No vomiting in the Batmobile, Nightwing," Batman growled as he stopped the vehicle as fast as he dared, without invoking inertia to assist in the unavoidable outcome of Dick's stomach.

Not even waiting until for the Batmobile to come to a complete stop, Dick opened his door and would have fallen on his face if it hadn't been for Alfred's strong hands both catching him and holding him over the bucket that had been placed on the ground, precisely where the passenger door would open.

After hearing his son expel the contents of his stomach, Batman pulled his mask back, draping a hand towel dampened with cold water across the back of his son's neck, "Come on, Dick, let's do a couple tests then we'll get you to bed."

"..._ngh_, I vote we skip the tests and go straight to bed," Dick replied as he was led into the infirmary.

"Out voted," Bruce and Alfred chimed in at the same time.

"However, I believe we can come to a compromise," Alfred said as he helped Dick out of the T-shirt he wore under his suit, "How about you allow me to take a blood sample for lab work, and we can do a quick EEG while you get some x-rays taken, take a quick shower, then you can get to bed in no more than 30 minutes. However, you'll have to allow an EKG once you do get to bed. With the estimated voltage your body experienced, I want to monitor you the rest of the night."

"Alfred, right now, I wouldn't care if you allowed Lian to pain my toenails pink, I just wanna go to bed."

"I'll be sure to inform the young miss, next time she visits, now lie still," Alfred said as he walked over to the machine controls.

"Hey, Alfred, were's Bruce?" Dick called from the x-ray table.

"Computer," Bruce replied.

"What'd you mean by code BB?"

"'B' what?"

"Bravo Bravo, you told Alfred 'Code BB," Dick shouted

"Code BB stands for barf bucket," Bruce shouted back.

"What!?" Dick asked, bursting out in laughter, "Wh...who came up with that one?"

"Let's just say that Tim didn't acclimate to the speed of the Batmobile as fast as you did," Bruce explained, still sitting in front of the computer.

Alfred sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Would it be possible for the two of you to finish this conversation when you're _not_ at nearly opposite ends of the cave? And, Master Dick, If you do not put an end to your giggling and regain your composure, I'll be forced to start all over again."

"Sorry, Alfred," Dick yawned, "Hey, Bruce, so who..."

"You don't have to shout, Dick, I'm standing right here," Bruce said, pushing the x-ray arm back allowing Dick to sit up.

"Geesh!" Dick jumped and looked at Bruce, "How did..., you were just..." Dick looked over to the computer, "Wally's right. You're freaky."

"Hear that, Alfred? I'm _freaky._"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, giving the still Batman-clad Bruce a once over, "How anyone would come to that conclusion, sir, is beyond me."

Dick traded his snickering for a grimace as he hopped down from the table, "Okay?" Bruce asked, taking hold of Dick's arm.

"Man, _ngh..._I think I know how Forrest Gump felt after his cross-country trek," Dick groaned.

"I believe soaking in a hot bath would do you good, Master Dick. And, do allow Master Bruce to assist you upstairs, otherwise, I fear your water will be cold by the time you'd finally reach it," Alfred said over his shoulder, ascending the massive staircase to the Manor.

_vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv_

"Knock it off, Gar," Dick grumbled and rolled over, ignoring Beast Boy as he tried to wake his teammate.

"I said, knock it off," he growled, swatting away a dog nose, currently rubbing the side of his face, "I swear if you don't cut it out, **right now**, I'm going to put you on laundry duty for a month!"

Dick pulled the blankets up, content in the thought that he'd scared away his little green friend. Approximately one minute passed before his sleep was disrupted once more, "**That's it!" **Dick growled and sat up bolt right grabbing the dog by the scruff of its neck and muzzle, ready to throw him off the bed.

"Dick, stop!" Bruce snapped, grabbing his son's shoulder, "Let him go."

Blinking a couple times to adjust to the brilliant sunlight streaming through the windows in his bedroom, Dick realized he had a firm hold of Tim's wrist with one hand and his T-shirt with the other, "Tim?" Dick asked confused, immediately releasing his grip.

"What are you..., was that Tim I felt, what was he doing?" Dick asked.

"Just lay back down and close your eyes, concentrate on what he's doing, what does it feel like?" Bruce answered.

Dick gave Bruce a puzzled look, then turned his attention to his little brother, searching his eyes in confusion for a moment, "Okay," Dick said then laid back down against his pillows and closed his eyes.

Several minutes passed by as Dick laid still, patiently waiting for something to happen. He was about to sit up again and ask Bruce to explain when he felt a light touch to his face.

Furrowing his brow, Dick concentrated on Tim's actions as he slowly moved a couple fingers down the side of his brother's face. After a moment, Dick snapped his eyes open and sat up again, looking first to his brother, then to Bruce with realization shining in his eyes.

Bruce gave a single nod confirming the hope bleeding from his son's countenance. Tim was indeed tracing Nightwing's mask. The mask Dick was not wearing; the mask his little brother had not seen since before they had split the city of Blüdhaven for that final patrol two nights ago.

Dick studied his brother's eyes with tears in his own as Tim continued to trace the outline of his mask.

"How, what happened?" Dick asked as Bruce sat down on the other side of Dick's bed. "Alfred! Where's Alfred? Did he see? Hey! Alfred!" Dick shouted.

"He's not here right now, he left about an hour ago to run a few errands and bring Leslie a hot meal," Bruce answered.

"So, tell me what happened," Dick pressed impatiently.

Bruce rubbed the stubble on his face, "I'm not sure, exactly. What I _do_ know, is that, he scared the hell out of me. I was in the study, when Alfred came in, and told me he was leaving to run errands he'd be back in a couple hours."

Dick listened as he moved Tim's hand and rubbed the itchy sensation from his face. He had to snicker when Tim took his other hand and continued the pattern.

"I opened the video feed from Tim's room. Alfred said he'd fallen asleep and would most wake in a couple of hours. I had the monitor right there in front of me; the volume turned all the way up. The audio picked up everything from a bed sheet rustling, to the birds outside his window. I'm telling you, Dick, I heard every sigh, every movement. If he moved, I watched. Hell, when he _didn't_ move I watched," Bruce stressed and flung his hand in the air.

"And...,"

"And, I looked up and he was... gone."

Dick raised both eyebrows in astonishment, "_Gone?_"

"Like I said, I heard _every_ movement he made, yet he was able to get out of bed, open the door and walk leave without a sound."

Not able to stand the sensation any longer, Dick rubbed his face again vigorously, then pulled his brother to lean against himself as he reached for the stereo remote, and selected his Audioslave cd, one of Tim's favorite groups.

"Do you think we made the wrong decision?" Dick asked hesitantly then rested his chin atop his brother's head.

"No," came the firm reply, "the decision stands." Bruce left no room for debate; for that Dick was grateful.

Shortly before Bruce had left for patrol the night before, the four of them had discussed the many things that Dr. Kellar had said. One of which would be putting a lock on Tim's door, as long as there was a constantly monitored video feed and only if he were asleep.

Bruce shot down that topic almost before it came up. His response, _"Absolutely, not. With the three of us, and sometimes Leslie, there is no reason for such measures. I. Will. Not, lock Tim up like an animal."_

The room itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief with Bruce's decision.

"Ok, so Tim gave you the slip, then what?"

Bruce sighed, "I knew he'd have to still be up here, I'd looked at the monitor only moments before so I beat tracks upstairs. After making a quick sweep of his room and bathroom, I began to head back up to the third floor. I thought maybe he was sleep walking again, but that's when I noticed your door was open. I walked in and found Tim exactly where he was sitting when you woke up, tracing one continuous pattern on your face. Whatever pain reliever Alfred gave you last night must have been some of the 'good stuff' because it took you a good 10 minutes before you woke."

Dick sat in silence, digesting the startling turn of events in his brother's recovery before muttering the only thing he could put into words, "_Wow._"

Bruce smiled as he looked at his youngest, "Yeah, _wow_."

After a moment of mutual silence, Dick had a thought, "Hey, Bruce, what about you? Did he remember anything about you?"

"I don't know, Dick. I didn't move once I saw what was happening, I didn't want to take a chance of disturbing the memory that Tim had tapped into."

"Well, let's find out--sit up, Tim," Dick said as he paused the radio and moved out from behind his brother, "Tim, can you do the same thing with Bruce?"

Tim looked at his brother for a moment before reaching for his face again, "No, Tim," Dick sighed and took his brother's hand, "Come on, Bruce, sit down over here." Dick said getting up so Bruce could take his place, in front of Tim.

"Tim, look at Bruce. What can you show me?"

Tim's only response was to follow Dick with his eyes as he got up and stood next to Bruce. "Dig deep, little bro, I know you can do it," Dick coaxed as he took Tim's hand in his own and touched his fingers to Bruce's cheekbone, where the edge of Batman's cowl met that of the true man they had both grown to love.

"Look at Bruce, Tim, just like you did yesterday. _Remember, Tim_," Dick urged as he let go of his brother's hand.

Both Bruce and Dick held their breath as Tim kept his hand to Bruce's face before it slowly dropped back down to his lap.

"Timmy..."

"No, Dick. It's ok," Bruce said with a sad smile as he patted the side of Tim's arm and began to stand. "I'll be in my study, finishing up some..."

"_Wait_," Dick said just above a whisper as he quickly grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, pushing him back down.

Bruce turned back to his youngest to find, that for the first time, Dick was in the room and Tim was no longer watching him; he was looking at his own hands.

"Tim?" Bruce asked hesitantly before Tim slowly brought his hand up and laid it to rest on his mentor's chest.

Bruce didn't dare breathe, fearing even the shallowest of breaths might cause his chest to move under Tim's tentative hand, afraid that even that small of a movement might shatter their connection, sending his son back into himself.

It was a distraction he would not risk.

Dick's gaze flicked anxiously back and forth between Bruce and Tim. Even after mustering together every shred of willpower, Dick still found it agonizingly difficult to stand still as his anticipation multiplied with each passing second, waiting for something; _anything_ to happen.

For the Batman, patience was a skill he had perfected long ago; a science, an art. However, sitting in one spot for hours on end, be it in the most brutal heat or bitter cold, seemed like paradise when compared to where he currently sat, on the very fringe of his son's consciousness.

Finally, Tim's fingers twitched and time stood still for the two heroes as another twitch sparked movement. Too slight to notice at first, Tim's fingers slowly began to move with purpose across Bruce's chest in a continuous motion, before long giving birth to a shape, the unmistakable outline of a bat.

"**Yes!**" Dick exclaimed all but tackling his little brother into a bear hug so fast they both would have toppled over the other side of the bed if Bruce hadn't snatched the back of Dick's shirt to haul them back.

Bruce bit back the overwhelming sense of relief at his partner's recovering memory as he listened to Dick echo the feelings stirring in his own heart.

"I knew it, Tim. I _knew_ it," Dick forced the words through a lump in his throat, "Welcome back, little brother."

_**To be continued...**_

References:

Schenker Logistics Corporate Communications, Deutschland

_Forrest Gump_ is a Paramount Pictures Production


	8. Chapter 8

_This chapter of Trapped is dedicated to Kanny. Thanks for being so very patient about everything winks and for sticking by me so closely. Love you!_

_Thank you, Heidi for your help on more than one occasion. Love you, AU self! _

_For Summary and Disclosure, please see Chapter 1._

_This chapter is unbeta'd. You've been warned._

* * *

_Previously on Trapped..._

_Dick's gaze flicked anxiously back and forth between Bruce and Tim. Even after mustering together every shred of willpower, Dick still found it agonizingly difficult to stand still as his anticipation multiplied with each passing second, waiting for something-- __anything__ to happen. _

_For The Batman, patience was a skill he had perfected long ago; a science, an art. However, sitting in one spot for hours on end, be it in the most brutal heat or bitter cold, seemed like paradise when compared to where he currently sat, on the very fringe of his son's consciousness._

_Finally, Tim's fingers twitched and time stood still for the two heroes as another twitch sparked movement. Too slight to notice at first, Tim's fingers slowly began to move with purpose across Bruce's chest in a continuous motion, before long giving birth to a shape, the unmistakable outline of a bat."Yes!" Dick exclaimed all but tackling his little brother into a bear hug so fast they both would have toppled over the other side of the bed if Bruce hadn't snatched the back of Dick's shirt to haul them back._

_Bruce bit back the overwhelming sense of relief at his partner's recovering memory as he listened to Dick echo the feelings stirring in his own heart. "I knew it, Tim. I knew it." Dick forced the words through a lump in his throat, "Welcome back, little brother."_

* * *

Chapter 8

Roy and Lian stood on the front stoop to Wayne Manor, hand-in-hand. "Daddy, are you _sure_ Mr. Bruce won't mind that we brought Princess Snowball?" Lian asked, holding onto the pink leash fashioned with faux diamond studs down its length which was attached to a matching collar. The corner of Roy's mouth quirked up in amusement as her puppy ran circles around his daughter's legs until it had exhausted the leash's length and was forced to stop and sit at her feet.

Delaying using the door knocker for just a moment, he and squatted down to Lian's level and looked her in the eye, taking gentle hold of her shoulders. "Sweetheart, it will simply make his day." Roy said with a smile so true and sweet that Lian couldn't help but to match it with a giggle.

Roy unraveled the leash from around Lian's legs and handed it back to her before standing back up and knocked on the door, his sweet innocent smile growing in size just a bit as it morphed into a grin dripping with evil intent.

"Ah, Master Roy and Miss Lian..." Alfred stopped his greeting and raised an eyebrow as he noticed the white puff ball who was waiting to be invited in as its tongue draped over its bottom teeth and cocked its head to the side before standing up on its hind legs.

"Princess Snowball!" Lian supplied excitedly.

"Yes, of course, Princess Snowball... I was wondering when she would come by for a visit." Alfred said with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, well, we're sorry it took so long. I wanted to make sure she was completely house broken."

Alfred raised both his eyebrows with a full smile, stepping aside and held the door open, "Dear heavens!" He exclaimed with a gasp, "Where have my manners run off to, leaving you two standing out on the step." Alfred admonished himself, "Please, do come in."

Roy snorted a silent chuckle at Alfred's couth suggestiveness. "Is Dick in?" He asked, catching a whiff of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. _'With walnuts.'_ Roy thought, holding her daughter's jacket as she shrugged out of it.

"Yes, in fact, he and Master Tim are in the den wrapping up a session of awareness techniques." Alfred answered as he led their guests through the grand hallways.

"Oh, I don't want to interrupt. We'll just wait–."

"Nonsense, Master Roy. I assure you. You will be disrupting nothing. In fact, this session could have ended twenty minutes ago."

"Oh yeah?" Roy asked with raised eyebrows.

Alfred nodded, "Indeed. Master Tim has made astonishing progress in these past few weeks. He now works not only with Master Dick, but Master Bruce and I as well. However, his sessions with Master Dick have been lasting quite a bit longer recently." Alfred said, then crouched down to speak with Lian.

"I fear I've got quite the dilemma, Miss Lian and I do hope you might be able to help."

Lian looked up at her dad before leaning in to speak quietly with Alfred. "Whad'ja do?"

"I seemed to have made a batch of chocolate chip cookies-- fresh from the oven mind you, and I fear that I have made far too many for just this one household."

"Ohh."

Alfred nodded solemnly, "It would be a great help to me if you think you might be able to eat a few... to even up things a bit. I'd be most grateful." Alfred said with all sincerity.

Lian furrowed her brow, weighing her options carefully, "Would it be ok if I showed Timmy my puppy first, Mr. Alfred?"

"Miss Lian, feel free to address me as simply, Alfred. I have to admit the former makes me feel far too old and that simply will not do if I am to keep up these boys of mine."

Lian placed a hand over her mouth and giggled at Alfred's exasperated expression. "But of course, go show Master Tim your puppy and when you are ready, your cookies shall be waiting for you along with a tall glass of cold milk."

"Okay, thank you, Mist– I mean, Alfred."

"You are quite welcome, young miss."Alfred patted the side of Lian's head before standing up straight, opening one of the doors without a sound. "Master Roy..."

"Thanks, Alfred." Roy said, taking his daughter by the hand, he placed a finger to his lips before entering the den and observed Dick and Tim sitting on a couch angled away from the door, facing each other about three feet apart.

Out of his peripheral vision Dick noticed Roy silently enter the room and choose a seat in the corner behind Tim but made no indication as he continued to look down at the various potent-smelling items on a tray settled between Tim and himself.

"Hmm... how about this one?" Dick asked, unscrewing the cap to a small bottle of eucalyptus oil. "We're two for one on this... Tim?" Dick frowned, finding that he no longer held his brother's attention.

"Timmy?" Dick questioned again and placed a hand on his arm, following his brother's gaze for a moment then smiled. "You know someone just came in."

Tim turned his attention back to his brother. "Roy entered without making a sound, directly be_--hind_..." Dick trailed off for a moment.

"You sensed it. Didn't you?"

Tim looked at Dick for a couple seconds more before looking off to the side again. If he were to actually turn around, Tim would spot the room's three newest occupants sitting behind him.

Dick watched him for a couple seconds more thinking of the agreement Bruce, Alfred and he had come to right after the accident. No one would mention anything about Robin. That was something that would have to come back entirely in itself. But ever since the day Tim gave Bruce the slip, that part of his life had begun to steadily reveal itself.

"Come on, little brother, how about a couple more, then we'll call it quits and steal a few cookies. Okay?" Dick asked, holding up his hand to the side of Tim's face, blocking his peripheral vision as he redirected his attention.

Picking up the eucalyptus oil again, he held the container under Tim's nose for a couple seconds then smiled when he frowned and turned his head away from the powerful aroma.

"Hey, that's really good, Tim. You didn't respond to this one earlier." Dick said as he replaced the cap before selecting a small jar of minced garlic and attempted to wave it under Tim's nose but didn't get more than half the distance between them when Tim brought his hand up and lightly pushed his brother's hand away.

_"Heh, heh..."_ Dick chuckled and replaced the top to the jar, "Okay, so minced garlic is out. How about this one." Dick waved the container under his brother's nose a couple times, then tried again after receiving no reaction.

"You know... I'm beginning to get suspicious of this one." Dick said and furrowed his brow, taking a sniff of his own. "It's the only one you haven't reacted to– do you _seriously_ like the smell of rubbing alcohol?" Dick wrinkled up his nose and screwed the cap back on the small bottle as Tim reached over to drag his finger tips across a swatch of fabric.

"Soft." Dick supplied turning Tim's hand palm-up, placing the fabric in his hand.

Tim looked at his hand for a moment then began to rub his thumb over the faux suede before turning serious eyes back to his brother.

Dick nodded his head, "Soft. What about this one..."

Tim watched as Dick turned his other hand palm-up and gave him a square of sand paper. He seemed to study it for a moment before rubbing that hand's thumb over its sharply textured surface.

"Rough." Dick answered after a few strokes, then placed his hand under his brother's and guided his thumb across each swatch a few times repeating each texture.

Lian was beginning to get a little frustrated. She'd been doing her best to sit very quietly and still, listening and trying to figure out the game her Uncle Dick and Timmy were playing. It certainly didn't _sound_ like any game she'd ever played, but with her only view being the back of Tim's head, she simply couldn't tell. Lian knew her daddy said that they couldn't say anything and had to sit very quietly until Uncle Dick and Timmy were finished– Lian frowned, deep in thought while chewing the inside of her cheek for a minute. Maybe if she whispered very, _very_ quietly... but... daddy said...

Relaxing her back against her daddy's chest, Lian closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the frustration just like he'd taught her. After a few deep breaths she was already beginning to feel much more relaxed. That was until she heard her Uncle Dick laugh again. Lian snapped her eyes open and before she knew what her hand was doing–

Feeling a tug on his sleeve, Roy looked down to find big brown eyes looking back up at him. He knew Lian must be getting tired of sitting still and to be honest, he'd been surprised she had made it this long without at least squirming. Rubbing up and down her arm a couple times, Roy shook his head while giving her a silent 'shhh.'

Approximately three seconds later he felt another tug and before he could act, Lian had quickly scrambled to her knees on his leg and had wrapped an arm around his neck. "Daddy, what is Unca Dick and Timmy playing?"

Roy winced out of surprise as Lian's words punctured his ear drum in that hot, breathy so-called whisper that only young children seemed able to produce. He hesitated answering for a moment, not sure which would be less of a distraction: taking the risk of whispering back or silently leaving the room. Decided his best bet would be to stay put, instead of attempting to hustle a four-year-old and four-month-old puppy out the door without making a sound, Roy gave his daughter a stern expression before leaning in and cupped his hands around her ear as he whispered back, "Remember I explained that Tim forgot how to do a few things? Well, Uncle Dick is helping him to remember."

Lian leaned back against the hand her father had put to her back and thought for a moment before leaning forward again, cupping hands around her mouth just as her daddy had done a moment ago. "Just like when Aunty Dinah showed me how to tie my shoe laces and I could do it all by myself and then summer came and I wore sandals b'cuse it was hot and my sandals don't have laces and when summer was over and it wasn't hot anymore I had to wear my sneakers again and I forgot how to tie my shoes and Unca Connor showed me and I remembered again?"

Roy nodded, "Yep. It's exactly like that, punkin."

"I wanna help Timmy 'member too, daddy," Lian pleaded.

"We'll talk about it later, right now. We've got to be quiet and-- uh. Sorry, Rob." Roy said, grinning sheepishly when Tim turned around after hearing Lian's last statement.

"No problem, we were just doing some extra stuff since he was still interested." Dick answered as he began to pack various items into a mesh bag.

Upon getting the 'okay' from Roy, Lian abandoned her sleeping puppy and trotted over to the couch and climbed up onto Dick's lap. "Hi, Unca Dick." Lian greeted, wrapping both her arms around his neck and squeezing tight as she blew a raspberry on his cheek.

"Hey, munchkin." He answered, exposing her belly to give her a blubber blow causing her to squeal and laugh.

"Can I play now?" Lian asked as she crawled across the cushions, her knees dragging various swatches of fabric with her as she plopped down onto Tim's lap.

"Sure, as long as Tim still feels like it." Dick answered, reaching under the couch to retrieve a bottle he'd dropped.

"Do you wanna play, Timmy?" Lian asked and started to lay out various swatches in front of her. "Look at this one, this one is pink, and oh and it's soft too. And this one, this one's blue, and this one's red and this one is shiny, and this one's white and it's kinda prickly, see that? It's prickly."

The puppy still in his hands, Roy sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Lian, honey, slow down." Roy instructed, seeing Tim rub his forehead in frustration looking between everything that had been rapidly laid out.

Looking up with the runaway bottle in hand, Dick also noticed Tim's expression and took his niece's hand in his own. "Uh, Lian, how about we wait until later. Okay? Tim's been thinking pretty hard for a while now. How about we take a break and I promise, in a couple hours, we'll play again." He said and began to pick up the various cuts of fabric and textured items.

"Tim?" Dick asked when he reached out and pulled on the bundle in his hand. "I dunno, bro, we've been going at this for..." he paused to look at this watch, "Almost two hours now. Why don't we take a break."

Tim looked at Dick for a moment before tugging on the bundle of fabric again.

_"...-sigh-..._ alright, but only a few. Here, Lian." He said, fanning out her choices before her, "Go ahead and pick out four or five."

"Okay," Lian said with a wide grin and scooted forward on Tim's lap a little then proceeded to pick out five choices of varying colors and textures.

"Remember honey, go slow. Just like tying your shoes, if Aunt Dinah had shown you fast, you won't have been able to remember." Said Roy as he placed her puppy on the plush carpet in front of the couch. Stretching first, Princess yawned then curled up again, resting her head on her hind legs.

"Okay, daddy. I will." Lian promised as she leaned back against Tim, thumbing through her choices.

Watching his daughter interact with Tim a couple seconds, Roy picked up the box containing the aromatic items before Dick could take it and motioned with his head toward the door.

"Tim," Dick said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I'm going to go put these away and see about getting us some grub." He said as he picked up the mesh bag.

* * *

"So, tell me. How's it going?" Roy asked as Dick closed the door to the hallway closet. 

Dick thought for a moment then turned to face Roy, "He's doing... good, really good, in fact. The last time we met with his Neuropsychologist, she said that she was bumping him up to just above a level six."

"And there's eight in all, right? So what's changed?"

"Well..." Dick began with a sigh, "From the physical aspect, he's rapidly improving-- um like, walking around the house. Up and down stairs and all, he is good to go on his own– practically never stumbles at all. Hell, I think the last time I noticed a significant misstep was more than three weeks ago. The only thing is, he'll still wander some. Like, if he intended to go to the kitchen, you might run into him in Bruce's study or the den or something."

"Sounds like you all must be having to keep pretty good tabs on what he's up to. Huh?"

"You don't even know the half of it," Dick chuckled. "Following him around, or making sure he gets to where we're going is nothing. It's realizing when he's left the room... now _that's_ the real challenge."

"Kid's been a sneaky s-o-b, eh?" Roy asked with a full grin, leaning up against the wall himself.

"_Sneaky?_" Dick repeated, raising both eyebrows. "Dude, I'm considering sewing a bell onto his jeans."

Both friends shared a quick laugh before Roy continued on with the conversation. "So, do you freak out if that happens, when he up and disappears on ya?"

"Not really. I mean, wherever Tim could go that might be hazardous to him-- we've got the door fitted with an overhead lock. So far, he has yet to notice them. Besides, call out for him a few times and he'll end up finding you."

"When he wanders off, does he realize he's in the wrong room, or even remember where he intended to go?"

Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, Dick looked down the hall toward the den before returning his attention back to Roy, "Nah. We'll get a smile out of him once and a while, but... he's still not speaking so trying to communicate all that isn't always effective. Besides, his memory continues be a major stumbling block. But, we'll make a couple guesses as to what he might have wanted to do and if we hit the mark, he'll take off again. If not-- well, then we'll just redirect to something in particular."

"Particular. Like what?"

"Well, the awareness technique sessions for one, is almost always an available option."

"How many times a day are you guys up to now?"

"Each session is supposed to be an hour and we're currently going at about seven times per day– but here's the thing," Dick paused, and pushed himself off the wall. "Tim's not content at stopping at the hour mark anymore. He'll want to keep going and push for longer periods."

Furrowing his brow, Roy looked at Dick skeptically, "But, that's a good thing. Right?"

"Yes and no. I mean, yeah. It's _incredible_. It means that he's able to process what we're going over at the time and that he's consciously working at it. Like, he knows there's more to it all, cognitively speaking. It's like he knows this and is not content at where he's at."

"And the downside being?" Roy prodded with a flip of his hand.

"The _downside_, is that he's pushing himself too hard. I'm afraid he's gonna burn himself out and not really be able to focus on the next session. How long each session lasts isn't nearly as important as the frequency you can fit into a day."

Nodding his head, Roy continued to listen.

"A couple times within the last week and a half... we'd go about forty-five minutes over and it was clearly obvious that he was getting tired and couldn't concentrate as much. He'd get frustrated and take it pretty hard when whoever was working with him at the time decided to end the session."

"I see what you're saying, Rob, but still, it's a really good thing. Tim's working hard to get everything worked out, to come back-- all the way back." Roy finished, giving his friend's shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Dick smiled and began to reply when the words were ripped from his mouth at the sound of Lian's screech, "TimmyTimmy_Tim-mieee!"_

Dick and Roy shared an expression of alarm for a fraction of a second before they both sprinted down the hall. Bolting through the den doors, Dick's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach when he didn't see Tim and Lian sitting on the couch anymore but could tell that Tim way lying on the floor between the coffee table and couch, a socked foot just visible past the end.

**"Tim!"** Dick shouted and vaulted over the back of the couch, flipping the coffee table back before hitting the floor, instantly dropping to his brother's side.

Hearing Roy following suit with the back of the couch less than a second behind him, Dick froze where he'd landed and blinked a couple times as he took in what he saw. But more important, what he, _heard_.

Lian was hopping up and down, clapping her hands together and squealing Tim's name. However, there was sound that he was having difficulty accepting as it poured into his soul, like a delicate rain to a barren desert.

The sound of his brother's laughter.

Standing on Tim's chest, Princess Snowball continually peppered his face with doggie kisses. Tim lightly held the puppy back by her chest as he rolled his head from side to side, attempting to dodge Snowball and-- _laughing_.

"Dick?" Roy looked to his friend's blank, almost stricken expression and placed a hand to his shoulder, "Rob, he's– Tim's..."

"...yeah, Roy. I..." Dick trailed off, finding himself at a loss for words and reached out to stroke the puppy down it's back a few times, drinking in the sound of his brother's voice again and blinked past a couple tears as he thought of how long it had been since he had heard that sound... and how afraid he'd been that he would never be blessed by it again.

"Daddy, daddy! Do you see? Princess made Timmy laugh! She jumped up on Timmy and started tickling his face and made him laugh!" Lian proclaimed excitedly jumping onto Roy's knee who had squatted down next to Dick-- also momentarily stunned by this sudden turn of events.

"I know, honey. I see that." Roy answered his daughter softly and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"What do you think, little brother?" Dick asked after laying down on the floor next to Tim, propping himself up on an elbow and began scratching Snowball behind her ears.

Turning at his brother's words, Tim watched Snowball stumble and slide down the side of his chest to greet her newest source of attention. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Getting his answer in the form of full grin, Dick tousled Tim hair then grabbed the puppy and stood up. "Come on, kid, let's burn some rubber." He said, extending a hand to give Tim a pull-up from off the floor.

"Unca Dick, where're you going? Can we come to?" Lian asked anxiously as Dick handed her back her dog.

"You sure can, Lian." Dick answered then turned to Roy, "Feel like driving?"

"Sure. We're gonna make a pit stop for both 'Princesses' then we'll meet you outside." Roy answered, tossing Dick the keys to his Jeep.

* * *

"Uh, Dick... you sure about that?" Roy asked with skepticism when he walked out into the garage, gesturing toward the sight of Tim sitting on the back of Dick's bike as he was fastening the chin strap on Tim's helmet. 

"What... the bike?" Dick asked as he held Tim's ankle, guiding him as he sought out the foot peg.

"Uh..._yeah_," Roy answered raising an eyebrow watching as Dick put on his own helmet before sliding on the bike in front of his brother. "Dude, does Bruce know? Cuz if not, he's gonna skin you alive."

Dick kick-started the bike and revved the engine a couple times. "It was his idea to begin with." Dick answered with a mischievous grin just before flipping down the tinted visor on his helmet then took off down the driveway.

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

I know it's been a long, long time since I've updated this or any of my other stories. I apologize for that. Life got crazy for a while but I think I'm finally getting my muse back. Thanks for not giving up and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. This chapter is unbeta'd so read at your own risk ;)

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Dick gazed into the fire as he tried to wait patiently for a response from Bruce. Stretching his legs out on the ottoman, he sighed as the fire bathed him in warmth and watched as wisps of smoke twisted and curled throughout the enormous fireplace, flames licking the logs he'd chopped earlier that day.

Chopping wood. Not an activity many would think the son of a billionaire would partake in but, for Dick, it was one of his favorite ways to clear his mind and focus on a problem. His problem lately? Coming up with a way to convince Bruce that Tim was ready to take on a new project.

Moisture in one of the logs expanded and caused a loud pop which roused the pup lying on the couch next to Bruce. Raising his head an inch, he gave a snort and a quick twitch of his ears before plopping his head back down on the cushion, his paws almost immediately began to twitch. Dick watched as Bruce unconsciously stroked the pup's head and reflected back to the day, two months ago, when they had brought Trouble home.

He remembered sitting on the couch with Alfred as Tim and the pup played on the floor. He remembered when Bruce got home that day, how he walked into the room, almost hypnotically- each step seemingly powered by a sound they'd all secretly feared they would never hear again, Tim's laughter.

Ever since that day, Dick reflected, Tim's progress had soared. It was as if by some miracle, bringing the pup home that day had somehow unlocked a door in Tim's mind. Of course, there were small steps at first, but within just a few weeks, it was evident that Tim, more that ever, was on his way back to them. They were able to increase the length and intensity of the awakening exercises and, also, as he progressed, he expressed a need for communication, more than he'd been content with previously- he now wanted to talk.

Speak verbally... well, they were still unable to get him to try that. Dick knew Tim had the ability to, but for what ever the reason, Tim refused and was keeping that reason to himself. It was a small set back in light of how well things had been going and neither Bruce, Dick nor Alfred pressured Tim about it any further, knowing he'd let them know when he was ready. In the mean time, they'd all been working with him to reteach the sign language he'd learned years before when he was training to become Robin. It was all a series of small steps to make a lot of progress, but progress was definitely being made.

Small steps- Dick crossed his arms and dropped his head in thought, chuckling to himself-then came that _big _step a week ago. The night Batman and Nightwing rolled in from patrol to find Tim and Trouble sitting at the Crays in Batman's chair.

Alfred was a few feet away dusting shelves, asking them if they'd like tea or coffee and Tim was sitting in Batman's chair, grinning at them with a knowing smile-telling them without speaking he remembered... and knew.

Bruce hesitated for only a moment, taking in the scene, then continued his way to the computer, removed his gloves, ruffled his youngest's hair and chose tea.

Dick gave his head a shake and laughed to himself in disbelief, "First time in almost a year, Tim's sitting in the Batcave; Alfred is dusting; and Batman wants tea." Laughing out loud, he peeled off his mask. "Unbelievable."

Tossing his gloves on the computer table, Dick rubbed the puppy behind its ears while studying Tim or a moment before placing a hand to the on his brother's shoulder and leaned down to rest his forehead against Tim's, "About time, little bro."

Later that night, after Tim had gone to bed, the three men gathered in the dimly-lit kitchen. Alfred sat at the table with Bruce and, as he warmed his hands around a cup of Earl Grey, he thought of the best way to recap the events in the Manor while his charges had been out saving their city.

Dick pulled out his seat and set down the bowl of cereal he'd fixed. He looked between Bruce and Alfred while using his spoon to dunk the cereal under the milk a few times, "So, Alfie... details?"

Alfred looked up at the use of the nickname only allowed to be used by his grandsons, and had to smile at the look of earnest impatience upon Dick's face and, with a deep breath, he began.

"The hour was about, oh, eleven thirty, I believe. I had been sitting in this very seat at that time, planning meals for the upcoming week and making out a grocery list. Master Tim had been in his room for some time, reading and listening to his music. It was nearing the time he usually comes looking for bite to eat and, not certain of what he'd be in the mood for tonight, I decided to use the intercom to ask him to the kitchen-I thought, perhaps, we'd make a pan of cookie-dough brownies but, my suggestion was met by silence. The young sir didn't buzz me back to let me know he'd heard and I couldn't hear any movement from his room.

"I thought, perhaps he'd fallen asleep, as one might do while reading, and went to his room to check-but, he wasn't there. I checked his bathroom, your bedrooms and then retraced my steps down to the kitchen in the event that he might have used the south staircase and we'd simply missed each other. Nothing. Then I checked the study, the sitting room, dining room, pantry, garage,..." Alfred sat back and exhaled with raised eyebrows, "I don't mind saying, I was becoming slightly alarmed."

"I don't blame you, Alfred," Bruce said over his cup of coffee, "it's been months since Tim's put us through a vanishing act."

Dick drained the milk from his bowl and set it back down, "Okay, on to the part with the cave, did you look there first and, if so, did he follow you?"

Alfred became very serious. "No. Of that I'm absolutely certain. Since the young sir's … accident, we've all been careful not to mention what activities go on below, in any way. In fact, I can count on one hand how many times I've stepped foot into the cave within the past year, as per our agreement, to make certain if Master Tim were to find his way back to the cave, it would have to be entirely on his own.

"And, might I add-" Alfred leaned forward in his chair to point between Bruce and Dick, "the layers of dust in that place are appalling! You two should be ashamed. In fact, I will guarantee you, come tomorrow, I'll not be the only one with a feather duster in my hand."

"Alfred." Bruce said dryly, beckoning with his hand, "Tim... the cave..."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, giving Bruce a look that said he meant business before taking a breath to continue, "As I was saying, I had looked everywhere and was just about to do a quick search of the grounds when I'd come to a decision of necessity-I decided to enter the cave and use the computer to do a thermal scan of the property, inside and out. After all, it would be the quickest way to find the young sir whom had now been missing, I'd surmised, for over an hour." Alfred paused, staring off into space for a moment as a thought occurred to him, "It was then, when I'd reached the clock and was about to move the hands that I had the feeling of..." he trailed off and took a sip of his tea as he searched for the best way to explain, "Well, simply put, it was as if a light went on and I knew exactly where he was. I fixed the hands of the clock accordingly and descended into the cave-where I found Master Timothy sitting at the computer sorting through case files from the past year."

"Alfred," Bruce began and leaned forward in his chair, turning toward the older man, "I know you already know how important this question is and forgive me for questioning what you've said so far, but, are you _absolutely sure_ there is no way Tim saw you enter the cave tonight or at any time in this past year?"

Not seeming possible, Alfred sat up straighter, answering without hesitation, "I can assure you, Master Bruce, the answer to your question is: No. Not once. In fact, I believe the last time I was in the cave was a few nights after Master Timothy's accident, all those months back, when you brought Master Richard home after he'd been electrocuted-during which, Dr. Thompkins was kind enough to sit with the young sir while I was otherwise occupied."

"Bruce-." Dick said, his grin so large it was bordering on the Joker-esque. In response, Bruce raised a hand so he could think. Dick, ignoring the gesture, got up from his chair and grabbed one next to his mentor, turned it backward and sat down, "You know what this means. You knew-hell, we _all_ knew this day would come eventually-"

"Dick-"

"Ever since that day after I got zapped, when Tim traced an outline of a bat on your chest and-"

"Dick, We can't afford to be hasty-"

"-and the outline of my mask on my face-Bruce, no. Listen!" Dick insisted, waving away the hand Bruce held up again. "Look. I know we need to be careful and I'm not looking for you to come to any big decisions right now. I'm not asking for you to agree that he's ready to jump back into the Robin role-hell, I don't even know what the next step _should_ be, I only want you to admit that: A) this is _huge_ and B) we need to take advantage of this new... new, ah..."

"Awakening," Alfred supplied.

"Yeah," Dick said, snapping his fingers twice at Alfred's suggested verb, "awakening. We need to jump on this and do what all those doctors, specialists and therapists have been telling us to do when Tim shows remembrance or awareness in an area he'd forgotten, we need to help to draw it out."

"Yes, Dick, I know what's been said and I know what procedures to take. We also don't want to overload the kid and cause him to shut down or regress-" Bruce raised his voice over Dick's muttering, "-which is a very real possibility if not dealt with properly."

"Ahem, If I may..." Alfred decided to interject before vulnerable emotions between his two charges heated to the inevitable boil, "I believe you're both saying the same thing in different ways and, frankly, I'm beginning to get dizzy from following the two of you in the circle you've been talking." Alfred rose to rinse out his cup, "Taking into consideration the fact that Master Timothy remembered how to enter the cave from your study, Master Bruce, and remembered the tedious log-in procedure to gain access to the Crays Mainframe, and, also, appeared to be navigating its files, drives and user profiles with minimal effort... I find it useless to deny him access to the cave and information about his prior activities there within."

"I tend to agree with you, Alfred. However-" Bruce turned to face Dick, "Any training, instruction and/or preparations to get Tim back into the Robin costume will be of last resort. For now, let's just allow him to take the wheel and see where he'd like to go."

"That's all I was trying to say!" Dick threw his arms in the air with a wide grin, then smacked Bruce on the back with one hand and squeezed his forearm with the other, "He's almost back, Bruce- all the way back!"

"What are you grinning about?" Dick snapped his head up at the question, the sound of his mentor's voice bringing him out of his thoughts. "Oh..." he watched Bruce select another log to throw on the fire, "... just thinking."

"Mm." Bruce gave his oldest a skeptical look then turned and looked at the picture of his parents hanging above the fireplace. "In regards to your proposition," Bruce turned to face Dick, "what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Exactly, well, I'm not sure... exactly. I thought we could discuss the specifics but, like I said almost an hour ago... we have let Tim take the wheel and he's show us what he's remembered and we've all spoken with him about what happened to him last year, and... " Dick paused to pick up the pup that was standing with it's front paws on his leg, "I think it's time to talk to Tim about how he'd feel about beginning to train again. He's done better than we could have hoped on the mental side of Robin, we've all been working with him on that and he can't get enough of it. Hell, he'd be down there 24/7 if we'd let him. I think he could use a switch; let's start working on the physical side. He's ready Bruce. I see it, I feel it and I just know it... Alfred knows it, and I think you do, too."

"Conspiring with Alfred again?"

"Not conspiring, just..." Dick smiled as the pup pounced on his chest and licked his chin, "just making sure I wasn't getting ahead of myself before I brought this up to you."

"Hm.." Bruce propped his feet on the footstool in front of the couch. "Although Tim has shown remarkable improvement in his physical therapy and abilities these past few months, you do realize if we begin to train, there is no guarantee I'll clear him for active duty."

"I know."

"You also need to realize, if Tim is ever able to wear the Robin costume again, it might be months, even years down the road."

"I know."

"Are you prepared to stay here and abandon Bludhaven for that long? You know how Tim depends on and seems to still interact the best with you."

Dick nodded, "What ever it takes, Bruce."

"You're one hundred percent positive you're ready for this new commitment? There can be no room for second guessing here, Dick."

"I know."

Bruce was silent again for a long moment, taking a turn at gazing into the fire, "I'll admit, I've had... similar thoughts myself." He paused then looked back to his son, "Answer me this: Do you truly believe Tim's ready for this?"

Dick grinned and leaned against the overstuffed arm of his chair, "Bruce, who do you think told me to ask you?"

_To be continued..._


End file.
